


It Can’t Rain All the Time

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Series: Existence is Weird [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots, Young Veins
Genre: Cyber Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Relationship Strain, Touring, Wedding, also if you have ever watched any panic interviews you know how much they hate ryan, and apparently i like it so it keeps happening in these fics, as always, but he should've gotten his head out of his ass WAY sooner and tyler makes sure he knows that, halsey's kinda in this too but not really, he eventually does, horrible coping techniques, josh needs to get his head out of his ass, just sad stuff, like aggressive stuff guys, ryan's got a sad life, self deprecation, tyler's a really good friend in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: It's difficult enough that Josh has to be away for months, on tour and preforming and having very little to even so much as send Ryan a text. But Ryan gets it, he really really does, he just wishes Josh would stand up for him and have people stop telling Ryan to kill himself just because they're engaged.





	

**Author's Note:**

> joyan is love
> 
> joyan is life
> 
> (thanks halseyschemicalromance for being my beta you're the jazziest)

Ryan was watching Josh on the TV, enjoying a red carpet interview of his boyfriend at some awards show and wishing Josh were beside him instead of talking to this woman who was wearing too much makeup and a too expensive dress. 

“So have you boys been busy with the new album?” she asked them with that wide smile Ryan remembered from years ago, the smile that made him believe anyone was capable of being a serial killer. 

“Very busy,” Tyler affirmed. “The support we’ve received from the few singles we have out is amazing. We’re just excited to give our fans the final product.” Short, sweet, and too the point — much like Tyler himself. 

“And your home lives?” the woman pressed, still fucking smiling. “How’s it being a married man?”

Tyler just grinned from ear to ear and shrugged. Ryan knew he was thinking about Jenna. He was always thinking about Jenna. It was sweet. 

“Tyler’s still pretty shy about his beau,” Josh commented with a laugh to save Tyler from the spotlight. God, Ryan felt like he could fly upon hearing Josh’s voice. The sound was beyond any sort of medication Ryan could shove down his throat. “He’s still in that puppy love phase. None of us think he’ll ever leave it.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Tyler shot back. “All you do is talk about Ryan.”

“Ryan doesn’t really count like your wife does,” the interviewer laughed, high pitched and jarring. And, what?

Ryan sat up in his seat on the sofa, wondering if she’d meant it like that, or if he was just being paranoid. Tyler, though, also looked a little put out by the comment. Tyler stood up straight as the grin fell, looking to Josh like he expected his friend to get mad. But Josh didn’t even notice. He was too busy waving to someone who was just down the carpet, out of view of the camera. Ryan wasn’t even sure if Josh had heard the underhanded comment at all. 

Ryan had turned off the TV before he even noticed he had the remote in his hand. He went to bed and slept pretty hard, considering Josh was gone. He figured it was just the exhaustion from his busy day. He’d walked Dot, like, three times. He was just tired, that was all. He was just tired.

. . .

If someone had told Ryan that he’d be treated like this just for being with someone he loved, he wouldn’t have been surprised. He still wasn’t surprised, to be honest, but he would’ve admitted than he’d been expecting things a little more…in his face. Back when he’d been relatively famous, the comments had been straightforward and easy to find. Magazines would state what he was doing wrong, people would call him a fag, and that was it. But with this new day and age, the smart phones, and social media, and interviews, and shit, people got a little more clever. They got louder. But they hardly ever outright confronted Ryan. Sometimes, he wished they would.

See, he was used to the tweets. He already got so much shit from the old band, from fans saying he ruined the music and their lives and all that bullshit. Ryan had left for so many really, really good reasons, and he still stood by most of them to this day. Maybe he should’ve tried talking to Spencer, and Brendon, and Pete a little earlier, but they’d never made that easy, they’d never actually encouraged Ryan to be open about his emotions because they’d always assumed Ryan couldn’t be open at all. And that was fair. Ryan had been emotionally stunted all his life, he knew he was hard to talk with. He was hard to be around in general, but he felt like his band should’ve given him some leeway after his dad died and the fans slaughtered the album Ryan loved so much. 

He’d been going through a lot and had good reasons for leaving. Even Spencer and Brendon had forgiven him, and Pete too. Fuck, Pete talked to him more than Brendon and Spencer combined these days. He’d just met Pete’s kids the other day while crossing the street and seen them getting ice cream. The band was okay. The fans just fucking weren’t, but again, he was used to that. He was used to being called a fag, being accused of shit, being told he’d ruined lives and apparently led kids to kill themselves (even though he looked up every name he was given and made sure all of them were well and fucking alive).

But this shit, what the fans were saying now? They were saying really fucking dick things to say.

Sometimes they said lamer stuff, like“u cant b serious josh was way better wth Halsey gtfo @thisistherealryanross,” “lowkey think @halsey and josh were the cuter couple, ngl @thisistherealryanross is kinda a slut" and shit like that. Ryan used to think they were just being petty. He’d had people say that sort of thing about girls he’d dated, but he’d always shot those comments down. He wasn’t sure how to defend himself though. 

Mostly, they just insulted him and said Josh could do better with someone else or with no one at all. They attacked Ryan and said he was stupid, worthless, untalented, “a fag,” whatever. Ryan could handle that. He could.

He looked down at his phone and saw a message reading “he wont love u forever.”

Ryan froze, stared at his screen, did nothing. He just stared at it. He was sitting at a table at the front of some bistro with Dot lying at his feet eating the ham sandwich he’d bought her. Cars zoomed by and the world was acting normally, so why was he freaking out like this? It was one person spouting shit about something they didn’t know jack about. He didn’t have to listen to them, could ignore them forever, put this behind him and call Pete and have a nice conversation about Pete’s day. Josh had a lot to do today on tour. He couldn’t be disturbed. 

Ryan bit his lip and picked up his phone before he could convince himself otherwise. He sent Josh quick message, just a simple “I love you.” In their relationship, when one person said I love you, whether it was over the phone or over audio or anything, the other person was kinda obligated to say it back. If he didn’t, there was something important they needed to talk about. Ryan just needed Josh to say he loved him. It would make the message hurt a little less.

He ended up going to bed that night with the message he’d sent Josh unread, and his chest feeling emptier. He twisted the engagement ring around his finger until his skin started to chafe.

. . .

“You know Josh is just busy,” Pete told Ryan as he snapchatted his lunch, some greasy burger that Ryan also wanted to eat, but he’d gotten the steak, and was going to lie in the bed he’d made. His steak was good, too. It just didn’t have as much cheese. “I know you’ve never really been on the receiving end of touring absence, but people make it through this just fine. Spouses, girlfriends, kids, parents. I mean, I know you don’t have most of those relationships to make the problem, but you can make it through, too. Jenna is fine without Tyler. Sarah is good without Brendon. You get used to the temporary loneliness. Like how I feel when Pat is back in Chicago.”

Ryan shrugged and twirled his steak knife on the plate. Again, he wasn’t good at opening up for people. He didn’t want to tell Pete all of his problems. Plus, Pete would probably tell him to shrug off the criticisms of all the other people. Pete had been horribly hurt by the nameless faces on the internet. He’d tell Ryan it didn’t mean anything, even if the same concept had played a part in the Best Buy incident.

“You just learn to jack off more and listen to their music less,” Pete continued, stuffing his face. Ryan snorted a laugh as meat juices dribbled down Pete’s chin, into his stubble. “You laughin’ at me, Ross?” Pete asked with his mouth full.

Ryan shook his head. “I can tell you’ve fallen back into being ‘slob Wentz’ while between albums.” Pete laughed harder and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. 

“I’m a perfect gentleman, you prick,” Pete teased. 

“Does that mean you’re paying?” Ryan asked, raising a brow. 

“Are you putting out?” Pete shot back, raising both brows. 

“According to you, I need to masturbate more, so probably not.” Ryan glanced to at his phone to see if Josh had messaged him, but there was nothing. He tried not to let his disappointment show.

“Hey,” Pete called out softly, face full of pity. Ryan hated that emotion in other people, especially when they were looking at him. “He loves you, Ryan, but he’s busy. It’s not personal. Just business.”

Ryan grimaced. “Doesn’t help, Pete.”

“Can’t blame me for trying,” Pete sighed. He sat back and chomped down on his burger again. “He’s selling out stadiums now, Ryan, him and one other person. That is really fucking impressive, okay? And I know you understand that. He’s got to prioritized, and right now, his fans and performing are a high priority. It’s not like that makes you a lower priority, it just…it means he has to juggle more responsibilities than he’s used to. And hey, radio silence? It means he trusts you and your relationship with him enough to know you can go a few days without hearing from him and you won’t be thinking of walking out on him.”

Ryan met Pete’s eyes. “It’s been over a week, Pete.”

Pete’s face fell. “…I don’t know what to tell you, Ryan. I just know that he loves you and he makes you happier than you’ve ever been.”

“He doesn’t even have time for his fiancé,” Ryan mumbled. “Tyler got an entire second bus just so he could have Jenna with him on tour. Josh doesn’t even have time to text me.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Pete said helplessly.

Ryan shook his head and decided he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. These were his own problems, not Pete’s. Pete had his own shit to deal with and Ryan didn’t want Pete to think he was dominating the conversation. “How’s Meghan?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.

Pete looked skeptical, but answered anyway, launching into his latest story of how great she was at cooking.

Ryan just listened and made up stories in his head about Josh doing the same stuff for him. Made up stories about Josh being home again. 

. . .

The next day, though, was pretty fucking great. Josh was two hours ahead of him and texting Ryan at six in the morning, Josh’s eight AM. He’d ranted to Ryan about breaking nearly every drumstick he’d brought for the tour, talked about Tyler’s shower habits, and asking if Ryan thought he had a BO problem, because Tyler apparently did, but Tyler’s opinion didn’t matter, not like Ryan’s did. 

Ryan had maybe smiled like an idiot for an hour after that last comment.

It was easy to throw aside all of his plans for the day in exchange for sitting on his couch in pajamas and texting Josh. Josh narrated his day — a phone interview, a radio guest thing, lunch with some friend Josh didn’t name, looking forward to the hotel night. Ryan loved listening to Josh talk, even if he had to imagine Josh’s voice narrating the black pixel text. He laughed at the dumb jokes Josh sent him and replied with pictures of Dot being a dopey puppy. They talked about how excited they were for Josh to move in once he was home from the tour. They talked about fucking everything. Ryan forgot to eat. It was the best day he’d had since Josh had left.

At eight PM for Ryan (ten PM for Josh), his view of Josh’s last text was covered by Josh’s contact picture and the option to ignore the call or pickup. Ryan smiled and didn’t hesitate in hitting the green button, pulling the phone to his ear. “Joshy, hey!”

“Hey, babe,” Josh greeted, smiling audibly. “I gotta say — it’s really good to hear your voice. Sorry I could only text and shit, I had a crazy day.”

“It’s cool,” Ryan promised, wanting to alleviate any guilt Josh could possibly feel. “Just glad to hear from you at all. What’re you up to?”

“Just took a shower,” Josh told him. There was a rustling in the speaker, like a shirt or blankets being pulled up and over his head. “Now I’m in bed and stuff. The sheets are super stiff, but it’s better than a bunk.”

Ryan laughed and jokingly asked, “What’re you wearing, hot stuff?”

“Wanna come find out?” Josh told him, his voice a whole octave lower, deep in his throat and familiar to Ryan. That was Josh’s ‘I’m ready to go’ voice, and Ryan stilled when he heard it, staring up at the ceiling of his living room. He then stood and rushed to the bedroom, shutting the door. Old days of being a musician had taught him to cover all his bases so he wouldn’t get caught. 

“What’re you doing, baby?” Ryan asked again, going a little breathless. He knew what Josh wanted. Josh didn’t use that voice without purpose. He climbed onto his bed and lied down on his back, squirming his hips to get comfortable. His heart was racing and his grip on the phone was already failing as his hands started to shake. Ryan set his phone next to his ear on the pillow and put it on speakerphone. 

“Thinking about you,” Josh said, his voice only a little distorted. Ryan could hear him like he was lying beside Ryan and talking into his ear. “Thinking about my fucking gorgeous fiancé and wishing he was lying in bed next to me.” Josh sighed and there was more rustling. “You wanna know the best thing about being able to afford separate rooms? I can be completely naked and not give a shit.”

Ryan sunk his teeth into his lower lip. Pete had been right. He definitely should’ve been masturbating more. If he had, he wouldn’t having such a hard time picturing his naked fiancé and denying himself the right to do something about it. 

Josh chuckled, deep and dark. A thrill ran through Ryan when he heard that laugh. “You doing okay, baby?” he asked. “Maybe you should drop a few layers. Relax a little. I’ve got all the time in the world for you. You haven’t been lonely, right?” More rustling— god, Ryan wished he could see him. “Have you been taking care of yourself, baby? Eating? Sleeping? Having fun?”

“Fuck you, don’t be such a tease,” Ryan growled. 

Josh laughed again and Ryan’s heart thumped almost painfully. He missed Josh. “Impatient, aren’t you?” Josh practically taunted. “Got your stomach all in knots, do I?” Josh hummed thoughtfully. “You know, you’re right. I don’t wanna tease. I’m kinda pretty fucking hard, and I know we haven’t done anything like this before, but I’d definitely like to give it a shot.”

“I’m basically down for anything,” Ryan told him, wanting to sound confident in this. He knew Josh appreciated his confidence when they ventured into the more sexual areas of their relationship. Josh liked knowing Ryan knew what he wanted. “Let’s be adventurous, Joshy,” he breathed.

“Take your pants off,” Josh order, low and almost dangerous. Ryan quickly obeyed, kicking off his pants and pushing them off somewhere with his foot. He pulled off his shirt, too, because it felt weird to be naked from the waist down. “You naked yet?” Josh asked as Ryan lied back down again. “Fuck you for having an android, Ryan, we could be face timing right now and I’d see that fucking amazing body of yours. Fuck, wanna run my hands all over you, touch everywhere, explore you all over again.”

Ryan moaned softly and found himself smiling despite the arousal curling low in his gut. He pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and ran his hand down his front, pressing his palm into his hips and pretending it was Josh holding onto him. His hand traveled further and curled around the base of his cock, touching gently, taking his stomach. He kept his touch featherlight and almost a little frustrating if he didn’t trust that Josh would tell him what to do soon. 

“What’re you doing, baby?” Josh asked. “You’re not touching yet, are you?”

Ryan groaned and pulled his hand away. “You weren’t telling me what to do!” he huffed. “And I’m hard, Joshy, so you gotta fucking do something or I’ll do it myself.”

“So impatient!” Josh laughed, and then there was more fucking rustling, god. “Okay, Ryan, why don’t you just lie back and listen to my voice for a while.” Josh had lowered his voice, taking on a soft, deep tone that soothed Ryan down to his very core, healed all his cancers. Ryan relaxed instantaneously. “I’m just gonna tell you how beautiful you are, tell you what I’d like to do, and then you’re gonna do it, okay? Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Ryan bit his lip and tried to keep Brendon’s face from his mind. “Once.”

Josh probably heard exactly what Ryan didn’t want him to hear in that. “Don’t think about it, baby,’ Josh hummed. “Just think about me, okay? And how much I love you. God, I’d give anything to be there with you right now. Give anything to press up against you and run my hands over every inch of skin. Close your eyes, baby. Can you see me?”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and and pictured Josh lying beside him, touching Ryan where Ryan was touching himself. Josh’s fingertips on his chest, stomach, thighs, in stead of his own. Loving sweeps of the fingers, practically worshipping Ryan’s body. That’s what Ryan wanted, after all. He wanted to feel loved. Josh was the best at making him feel completely loved.

“I wish I could be there,” Josh murmured. “I’d probably be jacking you off by now.”

Ryan paused. “Is that an order, or am I just well wishing?”

Josh laughed again, music to his ears. “Fine, baby, go on ahead. Touch your cock.”

Ryan moaned in relief and wrapped his fingers around himself again, dragging his hand up and down. The pleasure swam comfortably in his veins and and he steadily rocked his hips up into his hand. “Joshy,” he moaned, eyes still shut. “Keep talking to me?”

“I wanna suck your dick,” Josh deadpanned, and Ryan choked on a giggle. “Like, really, Ry. I wanna suck your dick so bad, oh my god. Fucking Tyler was doing a mic check and as a joke he totally tried to shove it into my mouth when I came by to mess up his check, and I actually tried to mouth into the fucking mic, like it was an instinct. I now have instincts when it comes to sucking your dick.”

“Jesus christ, I love you,” Ryan said.

“I wanna feel you between my lips,” Josh said. “Wanna feel you on my tongue, wanna taste you. I think, out of all the dicks I’ve accidentally seen in my life, yours is the only one I’d like to see on purpose.”

“How touching,” Ryan drawled, still lazily stroking himself. He slid a hand down and fondled his balls, enjoying himself at the point. He could do this for ages. Just listen to Josh talk about absolutely nothing while he touched himself. He didn’t even have to have an orgasm, he was pretty fucking happy with this.

“One day, I’m gonna suck your dick and cum just from that,” Josh chuckled. 

Ryan grinned. “Keep talking…”

“But right now, I’d rather fuck you.”

Ryan’s cock twitched in interest and suddenly this became a little less relaxing and more on the urgent side. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly.

“Fuck yeah, baby. I”d pin you down like I know you fucking love. Keep you from moving, from doing anything. I’d squeeze your thighs and give you bruises and take pictures of them the next day. I’d spread your legs as wide as I can get them, expose every inch of you, take more pictures and make you squirm. I’d open you up nice and slow, baby, even though I know you hate that. Press two fingers into you and fuck you with them for ages until you’re begging me for more.”

Ryan wanted that. He wanted that more than anything. He bit his lip and opened his eyes, wondering if he had the courage to ask for this. “Josh…”

“What’s up, baby?” Josh asked, sounding a little haughty. But when Ryan didn’t initially answer, Josh softened. “You can talk to me, baby. What’s up?”

“Can I…” Ryan bit his lip.

“Go on, baby. No judging here.”

Ryan sighed. “I just…need that. Want something more.”

“What do you mean?”

His hands were shaking again and he felt a little stupid, but this was Josh. “Can I, uh…use my fingers? Please?”

A sound was harsh enough to bring static from the phone, like the air had been punched from Josh’s gut into the speaker. “You can do whatever you want baby, jesus, as long as you promise that I can see this again when I’m home.”

Ryan let out a shuddered breath and reached to the nightstand, pulling the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. It was one of those huge bottles, like the shit you could get from Costco. They definitely used it enough to merit such a big bottle. Ryan squirted healthy amount into his hand and slicked up his fingers, feeling inexplicably anxious. He lied back down on his back and trailed his coated fingers down the front of his body, muscles jumping at the cool touch of the lubricant, before sliding down between his legs. He shuddered.

“Ry?”

Ryan turned to look at the phone. “Josh, yeah,” he breathed. “Hi. I’m sorry. I just, uh. I got.”

“You doing it?” Josh asked.

Ryan bit his lip again and pressed the first fingertip in. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this to himself. Back before Josh, getting off had been accompanied with an almost guilty feeling, like he didn’t deserve to feel good. He hadn’t fingered himself since…fuck, he really couldn’t remember. Before he’d left Panic, that was for sure. He slid the finger in deeper, easily accommodating himself. “I’m doing it,” he told Josh, breathing a little heavier. “Fuck, this is slightly disappointed,” he admitted. “Definitely isn’t your dick.”

“You gotta use enough fingers,” Josh chuckled. “You’re only using one, right? Cause you’re such a baby, baby. Use at least three. You’d need your whole fist in me to get close to the size of my massive cock.”

Ryan laughed and knew that Josh was doing the to alleviate the anxieties. Josh knew him too well. “Fuck, okay, going on two.” He slid in the second finger, groaning softly at the stretch, feeling a little stupid for narrating. He’d felt kinda stupid with Brendon too.

“Just fuck yourself as sweetly as I would fuck you,” Josh hummed. “In and out, baby, nice and slow.” Ryan did as told, dragging his fingers in and out of that tight heat. His cock was straining against his stomach now, bright red and swollen, precum leaking out across his bellybutton. He whimpered and sped up his fingers despite Josh’s orders. He couldn’t really help it. He tried to angle his fingers, feeling the walls of his body, trying to find that one spot. 

“A little louder, baby,” Josh said. “I wanna hear you.”

“Fuck,” Ryan choked out, drawing his knees up to his chest, trying to get deeper. He slid in a third finger, curling his fingers again. “Josh, fuck, it’s not enough. It’s not fucking enough.”

“I know, babe,” Josh murmured. “You’re doing so well. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” If Ryan strained to listen, he could hear the soft sound of skin on skin through the speaker. The idea that Josh was touching himself while listening to Ryan sent a thrill through him and his cock twitched again. Ryan’s fingers moved faster, fucking himself earnestly. 

“I can’t find it,” Ryan gasped. “I need it, that place. Fuck!”

“Knees to your chest,” Josh told him softly. “Press down towards your thighs.”

Ryan did as told and immediately found his prostate, back arching off the bed as he cried out in pleasure and relief. He wondered how Josh had known exactly where to touch, and exactly how to direct Ryan to find that spot, but god, was he fucking grateful. Josh really did know his body better than he did.

“Oh fuck, Josh,” he babbled, growing desperate. He fucked himself wildly, squirming all over the sheets, gasping for breath and barely holding back whimpers of need and desperation. Josh was talking to him, Ryan could hear his voice, but he couldn’t understand. The roar of his blood in his ears was all he could hear and the impending orgasm twisted in his stomach. 

“Josh, Josh, Josh!” Ryan cried out before kicking his legs out and cumming across his chest. His thighs trembled as every muscle in his body tensed. Ryan rose higher and higher as he came, meaningless sounds slipping past his lips. It finally ended and he dropped to the bed, boneless, satisfied, and just in time to hear the moan of Josh cumming too from over the phone. Ryan smiled lazily and curled onto his side, mindless of the mess. He took the phone off speaker and pulled it to his ear.

“That was something else,” he told Josh.

Josh chuckled. “I love you…”

“I love you too.”

“I’m about to pass out,” Josh told him, smiling audibly again. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Promise?” Ryan had to check.

“Promise.”

. . .

He got a notification pretty early in the morning — some tweet from someone or another. Ryan groaned and cursed forgetting to put his phone on silent for the night, because it was six AM here, and he’d wanted to keep sleeping. Dot groaned beside him as he sat up and started to get ready, but he was halfway through his shower when he remembered the tweet he’d gotten in the first place. He only really got notifications from someone if they were all verified and he hadn’t initially known the name that showed on the screen, so it wasn’t any of his friends.

Ryan sighed and finished his shower, bracing himself. He read the tweet while still in his towel. It was from Halsey, the one musician who was friends with Brendon and Josh and an old fan of Panic. Ryan vaguely knew her. Had heard her stuff on the radio once or twice. He was also pretty sure there’d been a movie ad that played something by her, but Ryan didn’t pay attention to that stuff. 

He looked over the message and slowly felt a little less good about his day.

She’d retweeted a tweet about how Halsey and Josh were apparently a better couple than Ryan and Josh, tagged Ryan in it, and then added a snide comment saying “at least when Josh and I were fucking, Josh didn’t neglect me during our lunch. Thanks for taking my friend, Ryan.”

Ryan stared at the words for a long time. He’d made Josh neglect his friends. Now Halsey’s fans were calling him out and giving him shit, saying he’s ruining good and healthy relationships with his own relationship with Josh. He was, apparently, ruining the lives of the people Josh cared about.

Fuck.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair and tried not to freak out. He half wanted to call Josh, and half wanted to call Tyler. Josh would give him reassurance, but Tyler would tell him Ryan wasn’t ruining anything. Yet both of them had to be so busy. They definitely didn’t deserve to deal with this shit.

Fucking fuck.

Ryan pulled at his hair a little harder and sighed heavily. He was a little too tired to feel the full backlash that he was receiving. Halsey’s fans were known to flip out over every fucking little thing. They’d forget him in a day or two and leave him alone. He just had to make it through the current onslaught of hateful words. Again, something he was used to. 

His phone rang with a notification and he saw Tyler’s name across the top of his phone. Ryan clicked on the message with an embarrassing quickness. 

_don’t let them bring you down kid_

Ryan choked on a laugh. He was anything but a kid to Tyler. Still, the familiar nonchalance was a comfort to Ryan. Tyler could see what people were saying to him, but didn’t feel the need to make a big deal out of it to Ryan. He had a sort of faith in Ryan’s ability to stand up against this. He knew Ryan was strong enough.

And Ryan was strong enough. He sent Tyler a lame smiley face and set down his phone, deciding he would get ready for the day again. He would take Dot on a walk and maybe see Jeremy and enjoy himself. They were just a bunch of strangers. They had no reason to hate him, so their hate was ludicrous. He was better than that. Better than them.

Okay, maybe not that far, but Ryan was definitely something cool.

“Dude, open your fucking door!’ Dan shouted from behind his front door, startling Ryan from where he was still staring at his phone, half hoping Tyler would message back. But, again — they were busy. “I’m seeing all this shit on Twitter! I’m buying hot dogs!”

Ryan sighed and shouted back something unintelligible before starting to get dressed and leashing up Dot. He wouldn’t let those assholes bring him down. Besides, hot dogs always tasted better when someone else paid.

. . .

Some days, he felt a little like crying. 

Especially on the day that he saw photos online of Brendon and Josh having dinner— which he didn’t fucking care about, Josh and Brendon were friends, why would Ryan care if they had dinner? Hell, he remember Josh being excited about the dinner — but apparently Ryan should have cared, because, according to the magazine and blogs and fans, Brendon and Josh were dating. 

Ryan wanted to slam his head into the wall and cry. 

Josh wasn’t cheating on him. The second the images had started to be reblogged and retweeted and spread everywhere, Josh had messaged Ryan multiple times, saying it wasn’t happening, it was just a dinner, it was nothing, but Ryan had ignored him because Ryan had read the article.

_“Upon seeing this images, many are speculating as to what happened between star Josh Dun and ex-boyfriend Ryan Ross to end their relationship. Many theorize that Ross ended the relationship due to the strains of touring on Dun’s end, but more believe that Josh Dun was unsatisfied with the relationship and needed to move on. Perhaps Ross showed himself to be too much to handle? Or maybe Ross was simply “a downer.””_

Fuck that.

Fuck these assholes.

Fuck them for saying Ryan wasn’t enough.

Interviewers and reporters had never liked Ryan; it was easy enough to see in nearly ever Panic! interview there ever was. For some reason, Ryan was just a piece of shit to the lot of them, even if Brendon and Spencer and Jon were a bunch of saints. But Ryan? Ryan was the scum of the earth, didn’t you know? Ryan was just a waste of fucking space. Someone to regret and move on from. 

Ryan threw his phone and broke it.

Fuck.

He could go on Twitter on his computer and reach out to Josh that way if he felt like he needed to, but Ryan really didn’t feel like he needed to. Apparently Ryan wasn’t good enough for Josh. Maybe Josh should just move on already, right? Maybe Josh should just break up with him and date someone better — like Brendon fucking Urie.

Ryan wondered what Brendon had to say about this. If he wanted to deny it or if he wanted to play it up. Ryan was pretty sure Brendon and Josh had just had crossover dates, one having a hotel night while the other had a show or something, random occurrences that used to be blessings when Ryan was on the road. So Josh and Brendon seeing each other in the midst of busy tour schedules wasn’t anything sordid, it was just dumb luck.

Still, Ryan couldn’t face either of them. He was a coward and an asshole, but he wanted radio silence for at least twenty-four hours. He felt like he deserved at least that.

Twenty-four hours turned into forty-eight and Ryan realized he needed to buy a new phone. He wandered outdoors, sunglasses and a hat to hinder any possibility of being recognized, and bought the easiest phone there was to buy at the Verizon store, saying fuck all to cost. He just wanted out of there. He brought his old phone and they got most of the contacts in there. Ryan went home and stared at his blank phone, how the background was generic and the sounds were unpersonalized, how he had no messages or emails or apps, and realized it was perfect. He was going to keep it this way. He almost wish he’d changed the number. Clean slate.

His phone lit up with a phone call from Pete. He didn’t want to answer, but he also didn’t know how long people had been trying to reach him. For all he knew, they thought he was dead. Ryan sighed and picked up.

 _“Holy hell, Ryan,”_ Pete breathed, sounding beyond relieved. _“This if the fourth fucking time I’ve called you today, you fucker. Josh is basically having panic attacks and Brendon’s worried. You get that, right? Fucking Brendon’s worried. And Spencer.”_

“I broke my phone,” Ryan said lamely. He didn’t want to bother explaining.

 _“Fuck you, Ryan,”_ Pete huffed. _“I’m coming by your house. Expect to be in my snapchat video about waffles.”_

“I’ll get dressed,” Ryan mumbled before hanging up. He stared back down at his empty slate of a phone again and wished he could just buy a new Ryan while he was at it. He took off his sunglasses and steeled himself for a fucking interview of its own when Pete showed up.

When Pete picked him up, though, he was pretty quiet. He gave Ryan this long-suffering, sympathetic stare, one that made Ryan’s cheeks burn as he slid into the passenger seat. Pete turned up the radio and drove to an IHOP Ryan knew well (because where else would he eat at three AM?) while singing along softly. Ryan enjoyed the ride, but when they sat at their table, he tensed. He knew what was coming.

“You can’t disappear like that, Ry,” Pete said after he’d ordered a hot chocolate that was flavored like marshmallows. “You’ve got people who love you and want to talk to you and know you’re safe. You can’t drop off the face of the planet just because of one picture.”

Ryan wanted to stand up and screamed that it was more than one picture — it was a thousand comments online, a thousand fucking edits, a thousand hateful words, nearly a hundred bad interviews, a self-obsessed pop star, a bad picture, and one awful article. Ryan had a truckload of awful on his back right now. He didn’t like how Pete thought he could belittle this and boil it down to one simple fucking picture. But Ryan didn’t say anything, even though he knew he should have.

“It was a little more than that, but sure,” Ryan said instead. “Let’s forget the fact that you quit your fucking band after your dick pics got leaked. No offense, but people telling you your fiancé belongs with someone else is a little worse than the ego boost you got from all the people jacking off to pictures of your penis.”

Pete looked taken aback. “I mean…I do have a nice dick?” Ryan could tell he was reaching for something to avoid the hard point Ryan had brought up. “God, Ryan I don’t know what to say. People said that shit about Meagan and she was fine. Sarah still deals with backlash today. I don’t want to say that you shouldn’t take it so hard, but…you shouldn’t take it so hard. These people just want to fuck with you. Meagan and Sarah are both handling it well, so why can’t you?”

Ryan wanted to start screaming again, but he knew Pete was right. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself,” he admitted. “…But at least you talk to Meagan. And Brendon talks to Sarah. I’ve only heard from Josh for once day since this tour started. He’s too busy for this shit.” Ryan looked down at his hands. “No one defends me, Pete. And it’s stupid, but that fucks me up. Not even my fiancé is trying to help. The media won’t even recognize that I’m engaged to the man. They still think I’m a fling. And a bad fling at that. Everyone thinks he’d be way better with that Halsey girl.”

Pete grimaced. “I know it has to be hard, but you know what this life is like. For what it’s worth, I think he misses you a lot too.”

Ryan’s heart sunk. It had to show on his face, because he saw Pete visibly scrambled for something to say, as what he’d already said was the wrong thing to say. “I mean, I know he has to,” but now it just sounded like Pete was lying. “Josh loves you, Ryan, he wouldn't have put that ring on you if he didn’t. Josh Dun doesn’t make rash decisions. You weren’t a mistake.”

“Where’s the waiter?” Ryan asked, voice strangled by emotion. “I’m gonna call an Uber or something. I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Don’t run from this, Ryan,” Pete begged. “I just want to help.”

“Well you’re not fucking helping,” Ryan choked out. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Pete sighed. “People have to deal with the same thing you do. They get told they’re the bad girlfriend all the time. And they get through it too.”

But Ryan knew no one would ever suggest that Meagan wasn’t meeting Pete’s standards, or Sarah wasn’t satisfying Brendon. He knew there were lines people didn’t dare cross when it came to the girlfriends and wives and spouses of stars. For some reason, though, since the beginning of fucking ever, people just thought Ryan didn’t deserve the same courtesy. But again, Ryan wasn’t going to say that aloud.

“Let me buy you crêpes,” Pete pleaded gently. “With Nutella and bananas. You’ll love it.”

Ryan didn’t look up. He just nodded.

Pete sighed again. “And don’t forget to call Josh. It’s a dick move to let him think you’re out somewhere, hurting, and ignoring him.”

Ryan’s grip on his menu stiffened. 

He didn’t say anything.

. . .

Ryan tried to call Josh later that day, once Pete dropped him off back at his home, but Josh didn’t pick up. He sent Josh a half hearted text about how he was still alive and breathing. He checked Josh’s social media and saw he was doing some radio interview on a station Ryan couldn’t get in LA, so he sent Tyler a similar suggestion, on a hunch.

Tyler actually responded, telling him to take care of himself.

Ryan almost broke his new phone.

. . .

 _“I’ve got five minutes, baby,”_ Josh said the moment Ryan picked up, sounding out of breath and flustered. _“Just got done with meet and greets, now I’m gonna get nice and cute for the show. Are you gonna watch it?”_

“Yeah,” Ryan replied from the couch, where he had the channel on MTV. They were broadcasting the Twenty One Pilots show at the Madison Square Garden. A big deal, except TØP had done a show there before. It wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. Ryan was still proud of them. “I’m excited to see that pretty face again.”

Josh laughed, loud and happy. _“Fuck, baby, wish I could see you too. Maybe I’ll tape a picture of your face to one of my symbols. That way I can bang you from across the country.”_

Ryan choked on some of his cereal that was his dinner. “Jesus Christ,” he laughed, shaking his head. He was watching that dumb show about pregnant idiot teens. The concert was on next, in, like, two fucking hours. Ryan just didn’t want to miss any of it. He opened his mouth to ask about Josh’s day.

 _“Fuck, that was the minute warning,”_ Josh sighed. _“I gotta go, baby. I’ve got a hotel night in a few days, so I’ll definitely call you then. Love you!”_ Josh blew kisses into the receiver and hung up.

Ryan dropped the phone to the side and waited for the show. But with the opening survey of the crowd to prove that the show was sold out, he saw a sign.

“Josh <3 Halsey 4evr”

Ryan turned off the TV and went to get ready for bed.

. . .

 _“Are you okay?”_ Tyler asked over the phone. Josh had been talking to Ryan, then had handed the phone to Tyler when it was Josh’s phone to take a shower. Ryan didn’t mind waiting for Josh and loved talking to Tyler, but now? Now he was worried Tyler would ask him questions he didn’t want to answer. _“We’ve been worried about you. It’s been a hard couple of weeks for you.”_

“I’m fine,” Ryan said stiffly. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk or not.

_“God, Ryan, I’m pretty sure you aren’t.”_

Ryan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “… Has Josh, like, noticed? At all?”

_“Noticed?”_

“All the… the backlash.”

Tyler paused. _“With the fans? And stuff? I mean, not really. He’s pretty overwhelmed. What with touring and handling the press and planing the wedding, he’s got his hands full.”_

Ryan jolted. “Wait, what? Planning what?”

_“The wedding?”_

Ryan wanted to collapsed. “Oh god,” he choked out. “I’m such a shitty fucking person.”

_“What’re you talking about, Ryan?”_

“I just, I’ve been so fucked up,” Ryan continued, hands shaking. “With the people everywhere, saying shit about me, saying I’m bad for him, that Halsey’s better, that I’m not good enough.”

 _“Woah, hold on,”_ Tyler interrupted. _“Who’s been saying you’re not good enough? Who’s been saying that to you, Ryan?”_

“Just, people,” Ryan sighed. “People everywhere.”

 _“Who?”_ Tyler prodded. _“They can’t say shit like that, Ryan, it’s all wrong. It’s wrong and you’re gonna be in so much hurt cause of what they’re saying to you. We can’t let this keep happening. Not only is it bad for you, it’s bad for the band.”_

Ryan didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

_“Ryan, I didn’t mean it like that.”_

“I know you didn’t,” Ryan lied.

 _“You’re worth more than our band,”_ Tyler said. _“You’re one of the people we’re doing this to help, Ryan, and we’d give up our band in a heartbeat for you or any one of our fans. We’d give this all up for you, for people like you. People who need help. You’re worth more than a band. I just, having people say cruel shit about you and having no one in the band address it, no one stand up for you? It makes it out like we don’t care about you or the people we do this for. We need to be able to defend you. We need to show that treating our family like this isn’t okay. Make an example out of them.”_

Ryan as actually a little touched, and simultaneously worried. “You think I need help?” he asked. “Like the suicidal kids you try to reach out to?”

Tyler sighed. _“I mean…don’t you?”_

Ryan couldn’t deny that.

 _“Especially now, Ryan. There are people trying to tear you down and not many people trying to keep you up. That’s a recipe for disaster.”_ Tyler was probably pacing the room by now. _“You’re strong, Ryan, of course, but facing this sort of stuff on your own back then nearly brought you to your knees. We don’t want you going through something like that again. You’ve got a support group now, Ryan. A fan club or something. Tell me who’s saying this stuff so you don’t have to go through this alone.”_ Tyler stopped. _“Uh, nothing, Josh,”_ Tyler said. _“He’s just got Dot peeing everywhere and he doesn’t know why.”_

“I’ll talk to you later, Tyler,” Ryan said softly, knowing Josh would want the phone back. “Thank you for the help.”

_“I’m gonna text you about this, Ryan. I’m not letting this go.”_

There was rustling and then Josh was laughing over the phone, though he sounded confused. _“He sounds so serious,”_ Josh chuckled. _“You sure everything’s okay, Ry? Is it just Dot?”_ Fuck, Josh sounded worried now. _“You can talk to me baby. Yeah?”_

“I’m fine, Joshy,” Ryan said, not wanting to give Josh more problems know that he knew had swamped Josh was with responsibilities. “How, uh…how’s the wedding going?”

 _“You’re not mad that I’m planning it, right?”_ Josh asked, sounding even more worried. _“I just, I know that you don’t really need anything extravagant, and I know you don’t want anything huge and ceremonial, but god, Ryan, I wanna give you the wedding you deserve. It’s not gonna be big, but it’s gonna be beautiful. I’m gonna make it perfect. For you.”_

Ryan shut his eyes and cleared his throat. “…Thank you so much, Josh,” he said, sincerity filling his voice and choking him. “Thank you for what you’re doing for me. Though I gotta tell you, baby, if you set this up in a dumpster and you still say yes when they ask if you want me, I’ll still be the happiest man alive.”

Josh giggled and it sounded a little like he was crying. At least Ryan wasn’t alone in being overtly emotional. They weren’t really used to the idea of nearly being married yet. Talking about the idea of being married always fucked up at least one of them.

 _“Fuck, just can’t wait to see you,”_ Josh sighed.

“Only a few more months,” Ryan said, even though he knew that was way too long.

 _“I love you, Ry,”_ Josh hummed. _“Wanna talk about that movie you just saw?”_

Ryan lied back and started to talk on autopilot. Anything to hear Josh’s laugh.

After he hung up, he saw messages from Tyler, all of them demanding to know who was saying things about Ryan. Even though Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Tyler who it was, he was still so fucking received to finally have someone on his side.

. . .

Ryan watched an interview. He always watched interviews. He loved seeing Tyler and Josh have fun and talk with each other and he liked seeing Josh smile and he was honestly so lucky that Josh was so famous, because Ryan couldn’t run out of photos to have of Josh’s face and video compilations of Josh’s laugh. While interviewers hated Ryan Ross, they loved Josh Dun and Tyler Joseph. They laughed and told jokes and just fawned over the two men and Ryan loved watching people treat Josh right. Tyler, too, of course, but Ryan was looking to marry Josh, after all.

Still, sometimes, the interviews were awkward, especially if they were done by fans that won contests. Fans didn’t know how to handle shit. They got nervous and their hands twitched and they forgot their questions and it was always so embarrassing for Ryan. Other interviewers were just so fucking intrusive that it was disgusting, like they thought they were allowed to know absolutely everything about these people like they weren’t actually fucking people. Ryan hated those interviewers. He also hated interviewers that wouldn’t take a hint and wouldn't let a question go. Like the interviewer that kept asking if Ryan’s parents were proud of them for the Fever album, even after Ryan kept trying to get her to change the fucking subject. Ryan’s parents were never proud of him. 

But most interviewers were good to Josh and Tyler. Apparently, even though Ryan wasn’t there, they still weren’t good to Ryan.

_“So what do you guys do when you’re not performing?”_

Ryan knew that question so well. Very few people believed he read all the fancy books Ryan actually did read while on the bus. It was apparently hard to believe that Ryan could fucking read. Josh and Tyler had answered this questions hundreds of times too. Ryan remembered the boring, repetitive barrage of questions that would be occasionally broken up by a question of originality that every interviewer would then copy for then on. He knew Tyler and Josh’s answers. He just liked hearing Josh’s voice.

_“I’m always playing Pokemon,” Tyler said with a wide smile. “Sun and Moon are so dark. I never knew Gangar was the spirit of a human who was killed by a Pokemon. And there’s, like, this bear that crushes its trainers. It’s wild.”_

_“I just like texting Ryan,” Josh laughed, shaking his head at Tyler. “I mean, I rarely have time to these days, with the wedding and everything. But when I do, it’s the highlight of my week.” Ryan found himself smiling. He was a little more accepting of not hearing from Josh now that he knew what Josh was doing with all his spare time. “I love talking to my boy. On the phone, anything. I just love knowing he’s there. I love him.”_

_“I’ve always wondered about your relationship,” the interviewer said._

_“Yeah?” Josh asked, still smiling. “What about?”_

_“It’s just, how did you pick up Brendon Urie’s sloppy seconds?” Ryan blinked, not sure he had heard the interviewer right. Even Josh’s smile was wiped clean, and Tyler was looking a little drawn. “Not like that,” the interviewer added to quickly recover, visibly embarrassed. “It’s just, no offense to Brendon, but your standards are much higher than Brendon Urie’s because of your religious background. So how did you end up falling in love with what Brendon Urie rejected, you know? What makes Ryan so special? What do you see that Brendon didn’t?”_

_“I’m not sure what you mean,” Josh said, choosing his words carefully._

_“I guess I’m just trying to say that maybe Brendon and Ryan were together for more shallow reasons,” the interview attempted to mend. “Maybe Ryan Ross wasn’t very good at sex. Of course that wouldn’t be so important to you because of your religion.”_

_Josh looked like he’d been slapped across the face._

_“Ryan’s amazing,” Tyler said._

_“He is,” Josh instantly agreed. “He’s way better than anything I could have ever hoped for in my future husband. Brendon missed out, and he knows it, he’s even admitted to his mistakes when it came to his and Ryan’s relationship. Ryan is beyond the best and he’s perfect. And I don’t appreciate you saying those things about him.”_

The interviewer nodded, but Ryan could tell she wasn’t apologetic. She was probably really excited to get such a rise out of the two men. She’d definitely get a lot of attention from this interview. This was going to be a highlight of her career. She’d probably reference it in her resume. Ryan felt sick. 

He curled his knees to his chest and tried not to feel inferior. The woman had literally said Ryan was bad at sex and that was why Brendon had broken up with him. Fuck, that couldn’t be true. Brendon had been the fucking idiot that didn’t know how to jack off a dick other than his own. Ryan had taught Brendon so much when they’d been together, how could Ryan be bad at sex? Except wait, shit, Brendon had left him because of sex. A lack of sex.

Before he could think better, Ryan was calling Brendon, actually fucking calling him. He hadn’t talked to Brendon for about a month, and they’d discussed guitar brands they now preferred, sounding awkward even through messaging. Their relationship wasn’t anywhere close to being repaired enough to merit a phone call, but Ryan was doing it anyways. He was surprised Brendon even picked up.

“Ryan?” Brendon asked, like he didn’t have Ryan’s name in his contacts again. “Dude, are you okay? This isn’t, like, an emergency, is it? Should I be calling Josh? Or someone there? Where’s your friends? That Dan guy. Or should I skip all that and call 9-1-1?”

“Brendon, shut up,” Ryan said. “I need to ask you something.”

“Okay, uh, sure.” Brendon sighed over the phone and Ryan wanted to feel bad about bothering him, he really did, but Brendon had once kept Ryan awake an entire night crying because someone had said his thighs were too big, so Ryan deserved to have his own moment of insecurity. “I was just about to go to bed, Ryan. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Like I give a fuck,” Ryan said. 

“I’m just saying,” Brendon griped. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“And who exactly stayed up with you all fucking night telling you your legs are perfect?” Ryan shot back. “Who told you the critics were liars and your voice is amazing? Who fucking encouraged you to continue to make music even after Panic? Even after everything you did?”

Brendon sighed again. “So you’re saying I owe this to you?”

“I’m saying you owe me one fucking answer that will be a yes or a fucking no,” Ryan snapped, getting angry, though not necessarily at Brendon. “Just one fucking answer and then you can go the fuck to sleep or whatever you fucking want. But after fucking everything, I deserve one fucking, god damn answer from you. I deserve for you to treat me like a human being.”

Brendon was quiet. “Ryan, are you okay?”

“People need to stop asking me that,” Ryan huffed. “Are you going to listen to me now?”

“I’m listening, Ryan,” Brendon told him in a much more gentle tone. “What’s bothering you?”

Ryan bit his lip, then looked to the paused interview. “Am I…was I bad at sex?”

“What?” 

“Fuck you, you heard me,” Ryan said. “Was I bad at sex? Is that why you left me?”

“Jesus, Ryan, I mean…” Brendon sighed for a third time. “Not really, That's not why. You didn’t really give me sex, that was the main issue. You weren’t emotionally open. You were scared to say you loved me. And I think that’s it. But the actual sex, when we had it? Holy shit dude, you know how to use your dick. And you know how to play the human body like it’s an instrument of its own. So no, you’re not bad at sex. You weren’t. And you aren’t now. Josh talks about it, you know. He gets that dumb dopey smile every time I see him. I tend to make jabs at him taking it up the ass, and he just gets stupid thinking about it. So you’re not bad at sex, I promise… what brought this up?”

Ryan was relieved. “There was an interview.”

“Oh god,” Brendon groaned. “Interviewers fucking hate you.”

Ryan snorted. “I know, right? No idea why.”

“Me neither,” Brendon agreed. “You were always nice to them. Answered all their questions. I have no idea why they hate you. But look, all of them are looking to cause trouble. Half the shit they say it complete lies. You’re great at sex. Hell, sometimes I miss our sex. I may or may not own a dildo.”

“Holy shit, too much information,” Ryan told him, though he was smiling. 

“What?” Brendon asked with a chuckle. “Sarah has small hands. I need a big dick to satisfy me. You spoiled me, Ryan. Set my standards way too high. Now I’ll never be able to settle for anything less than eight fucking inches of fat, manly cock.”

“I’m gonna hang up,” Ryan told him, trying not to laugh. He was feeling a lot better considering how he’d started this conversation. “Thank you for answering.”

“Well, you were right,” Brendon said. “I do kinda owe you. Talk to you later, Ry. This pretty face needs its rest.”

“God knows it does,” Ryan teased. Brendon laughed and said goodnight. They hung up and Ryan felt marginally better. He wanted to call Josh and thank him for defending him. It meant something to know Josh had noticed when someone was attacking him and had done something about it. Ryan called Josh, but he didn’t pick up, so Ryan left a heartfelt message that he felt pretty good about and went to bed.

. . .

But again, when one interviewer was slightly original, all the others copied.

Not even a day later, Brendon was in a shitty fan interview of his own when the fan crossed a line and asked if Ryan had been good in bed. Ryan could see the shock clear as day on Brendon’s face, followed quickly by guilt. Brendon had pushed the question aside, saying that Ryan’s private life was not something he was willing to discuss, but the damage had already been done. Brendon would’ve been better off answering truthfully. Now people were speculating, saying Brendon didn’t want to say the truth.

Another interviewer tried to bring it up to Josh, going for gold and asking about sex life, but Josh shot them down before the interviewer could press. Ryan mostly had to deal with people talking to him on social media, random assholes, fans of Halsey and Twenty-One Pilots and Panic!, but not fans of Ryan, just shoving their way in and saying he was some sort of failure for whatever reason they chose. And Ryan was supposed to be used to this, he really was, but…

It was wearing him down. 

It wasn’t like he was seeking this stuff out. Dan was on tour, so Ryan liked going on Twitter and seeing how things were going with his friend’s band. He liked seeing the photos Z put up on Instagram and the shit Jeremy did whenever he was bored and near alcoholic beverages. Social media was one of the only ways he could see what his friends were up to while they were gone. He couldn’t just abandon everything without abandoning his connection to them. He’d always used to think cyber bullying was kinda bullshit, though.

Reluctantly, Ryan deleted the apps from his phone. He texted his friends, told them what he’d done and the barest explanation as to why, and they’d all said they understood, but he was sure they were thinking that Ryan was having a mental breakdown again. They really weren’t wrong. Some mornings Ryan woke up shaking and he had no idea why, but he remembered that these had been the steps leading up to the last time Ryan had collapsed. It wasn’t like he made a habit out of having mental breakdowns — he’d only ever had one, and it had been after his father had died. He didn’t know how to avoid one when he knew it was coming. He was just afraid of it happening. 

_“I’m flying back to LA for the weekend!”_ Josh had announced over the phone. _“Have to work out stuff with the florists. Wanna grab dinner?”_

Ryan was happy Josh was coming back, he really fucking was, but it was that weekend, Josh was home now and Josh wasn’t home at all. He was out in the town, working out a venue, picking out flower arrangements, and asking Jenna all this advice on what to wear. Ryan stayed at home and avoided all social aspects of life. He felt cut off and abandoned, even though it was his own fault. Josh had offered for Ryan to come, but Ryan knew that Josh wanted this wedding to be a surprise. He didn’t want to ruin Josh’s fun. It was self destructive and stupid and Ryan had no one to blame but himself.

But god, he wanted to see how Ryland’s last trip had gone.

Against his better judgement, Ryan went onto Instagram and looked over Ryland’s pictures, then Z’s, then Dan’s, then Jeremy’s, then everyone’s. He smiled at the cheesy titles Tyler gave his pictures and laughed at this dumb memes Dan always tagged him on. It was nice to see all these things again. Until he accidentally clicked on his own notifications, having gone on autopilot, and saw what people had been saying to him.

_kys_

_fucking kill yourself_

_oh my god just die_

_no one wants you here_

_josh would be better with halsey you should just leave_

_kys_

Ryan’s first thought was that these fucking kids were grade schoolers. How fucking unoriginal. How contrived. How fucking dumb. How fucking hurtful. Ryan was hurt. His body was shaking and he felt caged and claustrophobic. 

He tucked his phone away back in the bedroom and stayed in the living room, waiting for Josh to come home with all the lights off. It helped keep his sensory overload down so he wouldn’t freak out. He needed to be of sound mind when Josh finally came home so he’d be able to talk to Josh like a human being.

All Ryan knew was that he needed to leave. 

Even with the lights off, the world was too bright. The city was too loud and he couldn’t block it out. He heard sirens and laughter and dogs barking and it was making it hard to focus on breathing evenly. He needed out of LA, he needed to leave and go somewhere quiet and peaceful, somewhere where he couldn’t ever be recognized and where no one would be able to find him. And he needed Josh with him.

“I’m home!’ Josh announced, bustling into the apartment. “I got Chinese, hope you don’t mind. They didn’t have any spring rolls, though, sorry babe. I got you chow mien instead. I was thinking we could watch a quick show before we go to bed. Sorry it’s so early, I got my flight at four AM.”

Ryan watched him. “Josh,” he said. “Can we talk?”

Josh stopped at the counter and rested his palms on the marble, just kinda standing there. “…Baby, I’m tired.”

“It’s important,” Ryan pleaded.

Josh nodded and stood up straight. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Ryan bit his lip, not sure what to say next. He hadn’t expected to get this far. “…Have you seen what people have been saying to me?”

“About what?” Josh asked. “The sex stuff? I don’t let them talk about that, Ryan, and you know you’re amazing. Brendon told me you called him. You know you can always come to me for that sort of thing, too. I kinda don’t like thinking of Brendon knowing your insecurities before me. He doesn’t really deserve to know that part of you anymore.”

“Have you heard the other stuff,” Ryan clarified. Of course Josh knew about the sex comments. He’d been there for most of televised incidents. 

“What other stuff?” Josh asked wearily. Ryan felt bad, but he knew he couldn’t bottle this up. He knew Josh deserved open communication before Ryan did anything. 

“The stuff about Halsey,” Ryan said. “And me. Not being good enough for you. And then the…” he swallowed hard and couldn’t talk about people asking him to commit suicide. He wasn’t quite stable enough at the moment. “They’ve just been saying things. And I’m trying to tune them out, I really am, but it’s getting harder.”

Josh watched Ryan from the kitchen. Ryan felt like there were miles between them when there was really only the couch. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Ry,” Josh said, sounding sorry. “I can’t silence everyone.”

“I know,” Ryan said. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you’d go with me on a vacation.”

“A vacation?” Josh repeated. “When? For how long?”

“Just for a month,” Ryan said.

Josh gaped. “A month? A fucking month, Ryan? I can’t do a month! I’m in the middle of a tour and I’ve got more coming! I can give you three, five days, tops! I can’t give up a whole fucking month!”

Ryan wilted under Josh’s incredulous anger. “I just need a break,” Ryan choked out, trying to remain strong. “I need to get away from the noise. From everyone. I-I need to escape and I need you there with me. Please?”

“I can’t believe you,” Josh accused. “Asking me to do something that is literally impossible. I can’t fucking give you a month ad you know it, Ryan, so how dare you put me in a situation where I have to say no to you and you know I don’t want to. It’s manipulative and wrong, Ryan. You are setting me up for failure.”

Ryan blinked quickly to keep from crying. “It was just a suggestion.”

“I have a fucking band to keep up!” Josh cried out, gesturing wildly into nothing. “I can’t just bug out and pretend it’ll all be okay when I come back! I have people relying on me! fans and friends alike, Ryan, I can’t just ditch them! I don’t know what’s been going on with you while I’ve been gone, but it isn’t so serious that it needs me to fucking quit my job. I’m sorry I can’t fucking be here twenty-four, seven, but I’m trying! Do you just want to me to talk to you more? Should I give you more attention? I can try to talk to you every day if you fucking want, Ryan, but then the wedding will take longer, and we’ll have to wait two fucking tours instead of one! I can’t give you what you want, Ryan, without sacrificing something else!”

Ryan couldn’t take this anymore. Even Dot was cowering somewhere away from the noise. Ryan didn’t blame her; he’d be doing the same if he could. “Forget I ever asked,” Ryan said, just wanting Josh to stop.

“How the fuck am I gonna forget my fiancé asking me to quit my band?” Josh asked.

Ryan hadn’t asked that of Josh, he’d just asked for a break, but Ryan had known, deep down, that his request was just as unfounded as what Josh had assumed to be the actual request. Ryan couldn’t look Josh in the eye. What he’d asked was ridiculous. 

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” Ryan said shakily. “I’m not very hungry.” He stood from the couch and rushed to Josh’s side, kissing his cheek before he could chicken out. It was a horrible relief when Josh didn’t pull back from the gesture. Ryan went to the bathroom and drank a whole glass of water to force his breathing to regulate before he went to bed in his day clothes. Josh joined him about an hour later. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do what you need me to do right now,” Josh murmured as he lied down next to Ryan, putting an arm over him and pulling Ryan into his chest. Ryan didn’t hesitated in hiding in the warmth of Josh’s body. He was so beyond grateful that Josh wasn’t holding anything against him. “I promise, once we have the wedding, we’ll take the longest honeymoon ever. Just need to wait a little longer.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Ryan whispered.

Josh didn’t answer and they fell asleep with Ryan’s words hanging over their heads. Josh woke up the next morning around 3 AM. Ryan helped him pack up his things and kissed him goodbye when Josh went to catch his cab.

Then, once Josh was gone, Ryan drank another cup of water, went to the corner the couch made when pressed against the wall, and sat down on the floor. 

His brain shut down.

. . .

Josh walked offstage, chest heaving, a huge smile pulling at his lips when Tyler slung his arm over Josh’s shoulder. 

“As amazing as ever, Mr. Dun,” Tyler said, giggling.

“Same to you, Mrs. Joseph,” Josh teased, shoving his elbow into Tyler’s side and jogging ahead when Tyler let him go. “I call first shower!” He loved hotel nights more than anything. He was excited to call Ryan. He got on the bus and dialed Ryan early, figuring Tyler and Josh could chat again when Josh showered. Josh frowned, though, when Ryan didn’t pick up. That had never happened before.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” Tyler asked as he trudged onto the bus, pulling off his sweaty shirt. “Everything okay? Is Ryan, uh…is he doing well?” 

Josh had told Tyler about Ryan’s request, of course he had, Tyler was his best friend. Tyler had reacted differently than Josh had expected, though. His friend had looked hauntingly sad, an expression he’d wear when hearing about a fan’s tragedies or reading about the horrible things happening in the world. Tyler hadn’t commented, just said that Ryan needed a little support right now. Josh didn’t get it.

“Ry’s not picking up the phone,” Josh huffed, going back to his phone. He saw he had a text from Brendon, but didn’t bother opening it. He went onto Ryan’s Instagram and saw it was, predictably, lifeless. Ryan didn’t post stuff anymore. It was slightly disappointing. “Wonder what’s wrong now…”

He looked up and saw Tyler looked very, very worried.

“You need to get in contact with him,” Tyler said. “I’ll call Pete.”

Josh frowned deeper. “Dude, what? Maybe he’s in the bathroom or something.”

“Has he texted you at all?” Tyler asked. Josh shook his head. Ryan hadn’t texted him in a while, actually. “Oh god, Josh, we need to find out where he is.”

Josh sighed and checked Brendon’s message after all.

_no ones heard from Ryan in 3 days_

Josh’s heart dropped into his stomach. He looked up at saw Tyler was on the phone. “I’m calling Pete,” Tyler told him. “What’s wrong?”

Josh held out the phone for Tyler to read the text. Tyler paled and started to mumble into the receiver, begging Pete to pick up. “Pete!” he shouted once the man did before putting the phone on speaker. “Pete, please tell us you’ve heard from Ryan.”

 _“What?”_ Pete asked. _“I thought you guys had.”_

Josh wanted to punch something.

“Pete, I need you to do me a favor,” Josh said, starting out slow to force himself to remain calm. “I need you to go to Ryan’s apartment and get in there. There’s a key hidden inside the doorbell border, it comes off when you put your nails under the bottom of it and tug. I need you to get inside the apartment and find Ryan. And I need you to do this now.”

He knew it was something around one AM in LA, but Pete didn’t hesitate in getting up and out of bed. Josh could hear the sheets and the sounds of clothes being put on. He owed Pete big time for this.

 _“How long since anyone has heard from him?”_ Pete asked.

“Three days,” Josh said.

_“Jesus.”_

“Call us the second you find him,” Tyler told Pete, watching Josh for the most part. “Drive safe.”

_“Will do.”_

Tyler hung up, still watching Josh. Josh was shaking.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Tyler said, though Josh could tell Tyler didn’t believe what he was telling Josh. None of them even knew if Ryan was alive. God, fuck, what if he wasn’t? Josh knew when he’d left Ryan had been in a very bad place, but he hadn’t expected things to be this serious. Josh felt like he’d been blindsided. He also felt like a piece of shit.

“He’d been talking about needing to leave,” Josh said, mostly to himself. “What if he did, just…a little more permanent?”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Josh, that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t see him, Tyler,” Josh said, shaking his head. “He was hiding in the dark when I got back. I feel like I turned my back on something really, really important.”

Tyler hesitated. “…You’ve been busy, Josh.”

“Too busy for my own fiancé? Ryan doesn’t even care about the wedding. I’ll bet he’d have preferred I just listen to him and get married to him in the woods with you and, like, one other person.” Josh dropped onto the stiff couch, hanging his head in his hands. “I think I’ve really messed up.”

Tyler sat down next to him. “We’ve just got to wait and see what Pete finds. Then we’ll go from there.”

They sat in silence as the bus was driven to their hotel for the night. Josh grabbed his clothes and relied on Tyler to lead him to the room, as all his focus was on his phone in case someone messaged or called him. As an afterthought, he took his phone off silent. He felt like this was enough of an emergency to break the rule he and Tyler made about keeping their phones on silent. 

He sat on the bed and kept staring at his screen, scrolling through old messages he’d traded with Ryan, realizing he took Ryan’s constant availability for granted. When Tyler came out of the shower, Josh's phone rang and he picked up before the first ring had ended.

“Pete,” Josh said. “What happened to him?”

“Did Ryan ever tell you anything about after his dad died?” Pete asked, not answering Josh’s question and frankly pissing him off.

“What does that fucking matter, Pete, where’s Ryan?”

“Did he tell you?”

Josh scowled. “No, he didn’t. Why does it matter to you?”

“When Ryan’s dad died, a lot of other things were going wrong,” Pete said, sounding like he was about to start some long winded story of bullshit. “Spencer was just falling into his drug addiction and Brendon was starting to become upset with the music Ryan was making, adding a lot of stress to Ryan’s life. When Ryan’s dad died on top of everything, he, well… He had a mental breakdown.”

“So?” Josh said. “Everyone has those.”

“No, people have little fits of anxiety and break guitars,” Pete sighed. “Those aren’t actual breakdowns. A legitimate mental breakdown is when the emotional distress becomes so severe that the body and brain shuts down for a short period of time. It’s a coping mechanism. The brain just gets overloaded so it turns off in a way to keep anything else from making things worse.”

“What…” Josh swallowed. “What does that look like? In Ryan?”

Pete cleared his throat. “We found him in his shower in his apartment, clothes on and everything. We tried to put him in a bed, but he kept getting out and sitting in the corner of his kitchen. He didn’t respond for a week.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Josh asked, fearing the worse.

“Ryan’s been sitting on the floor for what looks like a couple days, Josh. Dot hasn’t been fed. He isn’t responding.”

Josh threaded his fingers in his hair and twisted as hard as he could. Tyler sat down next to him in shorts and pulled Josh’s hand from his hair, holding Josh’s arm gently. “What should I do, Pete?” Josh asked, needing to remain calm. The last thing he should do was freak out and make things worse.

Pete sighed again. “…Can you come home?”

Josh’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know. He looked to Tyler.

“Whatever it is, you need to go,” Tyler said. “I’ll cancel stuff if we have to, cause I doubt people will be cool with a fill in, but we’ll see what we can do. This is an emergency, Josh. This is important.” Tyler put a hand on Josh’s shoulder as he spoke, knowing it did wonders with aiding Josh in thinking straight. “I’m gonna make some calls, okay? We’ll see what we can do, but you absolutely have to get on a plane as soon as possible and get home. You can fill me in later.”

Josh nodded. “I’m gonna book a flight,” he told Pete. “Just, k-keep him alive for me. I’ll be there in, like, ten hours, I fucking promise. Can someone pick me up from the airport?” He didn’t want to wait on a cab.

“Brendon, Spencer, or Jon,” Pete said. “They’re coming over to help me with Ryan since they know how to handle this better than I do. Brendon was really the one to take care of Ryan through most of it. We’ll be able to hold the fort until you’re here. You’ve got to decide if you want to hospitalize him once you’re here, though. As his fiancé, it’s technically gonna be up to you soon, so we might as well put that into practice now.”

Josh wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility over the life of his future-husband. But he agreed anyways. 

“He’ll be here when you get home,” Pete told Josh softly before hanging up. Josh brought up the soonest flight back to LA and left without packing.

. . .

Spencer was the one to pick Josh up, being stone silent for most of the drive, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Josh wanted to ask how Spencer was handling this, but some resentment towards Ryan’s ex-best friend remained. He’d heard the stories and knew that mistakes had been made on both ends, but he couldn’t help but side with Ryan in that whole mess. Spencer had treated his friend badly. Josh was having a hard time seeing past that.

“He’ll wake up eventually,” Spencer said when the traffic nearing the exit to Ryan’s place was at its worst. “He’s a drama queen. He just needs to work his shit out and then he’ll be fine.”

“Have a psychological collapse is not being a drama queen,” Josh bit out, choosing his battles. He wasn’t going to start a fight with Spencer.

The other man sighed and finally took one hand of the steering wheel, resting his elbow on the window and resting his head in that hand. “Look, dude, I know that you think you know him, but you really don’t. You haven’t seen the mini meltdowns he’s had over the years, the fits and the petty fights. I’m sure he’s a little different now, yes, but people don’t actually change that much. Ryan will get his shit together and wake up and then you’ll feel like an idiot for freaking out so much.”

Josh turned to look at Spencer, choosing his next words wisely. “A man is sitting on the floor of his home, unable to eat or drink or do anything, and that’s what you have to say? He’s gonna have to go to the doctor for so much shit once he does wake up, fluids and infections and the shit that comes from your brain actually breaking, and that’s what you say?”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Spencer said, sounding exasperated. 

“Shut up,” Josh bit out. “Get me home.”

“Oh, it’s home now?” Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he had the guts to commit to you, even after you gave him a ring.”

“Ryan asked me to move in months before the tour,” Josh snapped. “Just because you knew him when he was young doesn’t mean you know a goddamn thing about who he is now. Unless you want to tell me that you’re exact same person now as you were in two thousand eight? You were a fucking drug addict. Ryan did a hell of a lot better than you did, and you have no right to look down on him for it. So shut the fuck up, get me home, and then leave us be. I don’t want you around my fiancé when he wakes up.”

Josh sat back in his seat and stared resolutely out the window.

“…I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled, sounding like he meant it. 

Josh clenched his jaw. “Just get me home,” he repeated.

. . .

Josh threw himself into the apartment, past everyone who tried to talk to him, and dropped to the floor in front of Ryan. He knew it had to be a trick of the eye, but it looked like dust had gathered in Ryan’s curly, greasy hair. Ryan’s eyes were glassy and sunken, dark bruises surrounding. His skin was a dull tint from dehydration and his lips were chapped and cracked. Ryan’s knees were curled to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs in a protective position. 

Josh had to reach out and put his finger under Ryan’s nose just to feel the air and know he was breathing. Tears sprung to Josh’s eyes. He hated himself for saying no to Ryan’s plea. He should have just taken Ryan away, taken him somewhere safe. Then this wouldn’t have happened. 

“He won’t drink anything,” Brendon said from behind Josh, sounding worn. “I used to be able to hold a glass to his mouth and he’d drink that way. Once or twice he’ll get up and go to the bathroom, but then he’ll just come right back to this spot. It’s like he’s sleepwalking for days. I’m worried his blood pressure is too low.”

“Is there anyway to wake him up?” Josh asked. He looked back over his shoulder in time to see Brendon shake his head. 

“If he starts throwing up, we need to get him to the hospital,” Jon said. 

“Oh my god,” was all Josh could say, turning back to his fiancé. He looked down to Ryan’s left hand, seeing the ring Josh had put on Ryan’s finger, and noticed Ryan’s hand looked much thinner than usual. Had he been eating while Josh was gone? Fuck, he had missed too much. Maybe he really should quit the band. “I shouldn’t have left…”

“That wasn’t it,” Brendon said, suddenly beside Josh. “I know you think it is, but it isn’t. Ryan can handle you being gone. He was totally okay until people started bullying him about you.”

“Bullying him?” Josh frowned. “What’re you talking about?”

“People suggest he’s no good for you,” Brendon said with a shrug.

“That was one interview,” Josh sighed. “Technically two, but I shot that guy down way too quick for him to say anything awful.”

“Wait, is that all you think has been going on?” Pete asked. 

Josh turned to face him. “I mean… yes?”

“Jesus, you’re out of the loop,” Brendon mumbled from beside him, shaking his head again. He went onto his phone and brought up a picture of Ryan that Josh knew well. It was one Josh had taken and insisted Ryan posted, a cute photo of Ryan smiling at Josh from over a plate of funnel cake, back when they’d attended the Los Angeles County Fair. Then Brendon scrolled down and Josh saw comments from people telling Ryan to kill himself.

Josh just stared at the cruel words for a long moment, his brain not processing what he was seeing. Then Brendon slowly dragged his thumb up, scrolling further and further down, showing much of the same— complete strangers telling Ryan to end his life, a ceaseless stream of awful. 

“It’s on most of his pictures,” Brendon said. “Almost all of them are all like this.”

“Oh my god,” Josh whispered brokenly. 

“Articles are dragging him through the mud too,” Jon added. “Fuck, man, I have a hard time reading it. It’s messed up. People really hate Ryan for dating you, Josh. They hate Ryan for getting between whatever couples they had in their heads and they hate him for being the one you chose.”

“It’s really messed up,” Brendon told him, sounding heartbroken. “I can’t believe you didn’t know about any of this.”

“I don’t look at what people say,” Josh tried to defend. 

“People have signs at your shows,” Pete pointed out. “I’ve seen them. From onstage photos, they show some of the signs. It’s all fucked, Josh, and you guys aren’t saying anything to stop this stuff. I mean, even I told Ryan to just suck it up, because what else could I do? But they’re tearing him apart, Josh.”

“I don’t…” Josh felt like the roof was caving in on him. He hadn't seen any of the shit, hadn’t had any idea that Ryan was being abused like this. He didn’t know what he could do. He could shut down the interviewers, address the articles, but he couldn’t tell his fans to fuck off. They were his fucking fans. 

“When he comes back, we’ll talk about this,” Pete said. “For now, he just…needs to wake up.”

Josh tugged at his hair. “Can I have a few moments alone with my fiancé?” he asked, half expecting to be denied. What kind of fucking fiancé neglected their partner so badly that said partner mentally withdrew from the world on a clinical level. He wouldn’t be surprised if Pete accused him of neglect. Not that anyone here had any right to say Josh should be punished for treating Ryan badly, compared to their own mistakes, but Josh still felt like he could still be punished. Or at least yelled at.

“I’m gonna go buy some smoothies for him when he wakes up,” Pete sighed. “Brendon, maybe you could call Tyler and let him know what’s happening? Josh needs to take care of Ryan right now. I’m sure he’d appreciate it if you filled Tyler in.”

Brendon nodded and ducked out of the main room, heading somewhere down the hall. Josh almost wanted to stop him. This was Ryan’s apartment, Ryan’s home. Josh didn’t think Ryan wanted Brendon messing around in his personal home unchecked. But Josh couldn’t worry over that right now. 

Pete and Spencer left the house, stepping outside without even a goodbye, which Josh was fine with. He didn’t want Spencer around and Pete was actually doing something helpful.

Josh looked back to Ryan, then sat with his back to the wall. He watched Ryan, took in the sallow skin and sharp cheek bones, his heart aching. Then he reached out, wrapped his arms around Ryan, and pulled the man into his lap. Ryan didn’t protest, Ryan probably wasn’t experiencing much of anything right then, so it was easy to maneuver Ryan into a comfortable position, curled in Josh’s lap, legs up and close to his chest, head resting on Josh’s shoulder. The position was actually familiar for them. Ryan would usually be whining and protesting at this point if he were of sound mind. Josh actually missed the complaints. A complaint Ryan was a cognitive Ryan. 

Josh shuddered and pressed his nose into Ryan’s hair. “You’re gonna wake up, right?” he asked, keeping his voice low. “You’re gonna come back to me.”

Ryan didn’t answer.

Josh wasn’t sure what he had expected. 

Pete came back with the smoothies, Brendon came in and said Tyler was wishing him luck. Pete went back to Meagan. Brendon went back to Sarah. They both said they’d keep their phones on, ready to answer any emergency calls, and Josh appreciated it, he did, but he wished they had more answers. Wished they were more help. He didn’t know how to handle this. He held Ryan in his lap and and googled this sort of thing, scoured the internet, but people all said the same thing— let Ryan wake up on his own. Give him soft foods, nothing solid for a week or so, and plenty of water in the form of sucking on popsicles, which was one of the best ways to regain sugar and and water content after severe dehydration. 

Almost all of the sites suggested taking Ryan to a therapist afterwards, but Josh wasn’t going to be able to do that. Ryan didn’t go to therapists. He just didn’t. Josh couldn’t blame him. A lot of therapists seemed to be more in it for the money these days. Ryan already had trust issues, they shouldn’t have to pay someone to make things worse, make Ryan feel more like a fuck up. Josh wouldn't push on the therapy part because he also read that a mental breakdown once or twice in someone’s life wasn’t actually that unheard of. It was just when the mental break showed sign of repeating that it became a problem. 

As the day stretched into night and Josh sat with Ryan, awake and aware into the AM, he found himself terrified of the idea that Ryan could never wake up ever again. And Josh wouldn’t know it. Not until Ryan’s body had become cold and stiff, rigor mortis setting in. Josh wasn’t a morbid person until he thought of Ryan dying. At that point, his brain functioned about as well as Ryan’s was right now. He couldn’t live in that kind of reality. He didn’t know what he’d do. 

Josh started crying around three AM, and stopped around four. He drank from the water bottle Pete had put beside him, coaxed some of the water past Ryan’s lips and felt relieved when Ryan didn’t choke. He’d made a horrible joke about how Ryan always did prefer to swallow and started crying again. 

Around four, Ryan started trembling. It was gradual at first, little waves of tremors running through his body. Josh hadn’t thought much of it, at first, and had only put another blanket around Ryan. But ten minutes later, Ryan’s entire body was quaking. Josh held to him tightly, terrified Ryan was about to tremble out of existence. After a few moments, the fear became too much. He reached over and picked up his phone, ready to call Pete and beg him to help, until he heard Ryan’s voice.

Ryan was barely there, throat scratchy, and Josh couldn’t understand a word, but it was enough. He reared back and wrapped his arm around the back of Ryan’s neck, turning his fiancé to face him, breathing hard in his panic. “Ry?” he called out shakily. “Baby, come back to me. Ryan?”

Ryan’s far away eyes slowly started to regain focus. Those beautiful, whiskey irises finally dragged themselves to meet Josh’s own gaze, recognition blazing beneath. Ryan mumbled something slurred, tired words, before he leaned forward and pressed his face into Josh’s neck. Josh sobbed and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders, holding him too tightly. He felt like he deserved to squeeze a little too hard. Ryan groaned low in his neck, then let out another garbled mess of words Josh couldn’t understand. Ryan kept repeating them, over and over, until Josh finally understood.

“Gimme a minute.”

Josh choked on a laugh. “I’ll give you a fucking lifetime if you just promise to never do this again.” Ryan groaned again, a little softer, and kissed Josh’s neck, just a tired, sluggish gesture that meant the world to him. As the minutes ticked by, Ryan’s movements became a little more energized and purposeful. Eventually, he was able to sit up on his own, pulling back from Josh’s neck to run a hand through his hair and grimace at how it felt. 

“Need a shower,” he mumbled.

“That’s what you say?” Josh asked. “You, you fucking clock out. Go dark. Just sit in a corner for four fucking days, and that’s what you say? That you need a shower?” 

Ryan’s expression went from worn to closed off. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, are you?” Josh demanded. “Are you actually sorry? I mean, what the fuck do you even have to be sorry for? Did you choose to do this? Did you make the cognitive decision to shut down or was it just, like, your brain quit?” Ryan shrugged. “Fuck, Ryan, I don’t know how any of this works. I don’t know what happens in your head. I don’t… I don’t know how it happens and I don’t know how to help you.”

“You can’t,” Ryan said stiffly. “And you don’t have to. It won’t happen again.”

“But if it does?” Josh pressed. “The fuck am I supposed to do? Wait for you to not respond for days? Have to send fucking Pete to your place so he can find you on the floor? I was relying on Brendon for information, Ryan, fucking Brendon. I love Brendon, but I don’t fucking want to have to go to your ex for help! It’s insulting.”

“No, I feel much better, thanks for asking,” Ryan mumbled, standing on shaky legs. They gave out after a few steps, but Ryan just held onto the coffee table, waited a second, and started walking again, refusing Josh’s help when Josh stood to offer it. Ryan went to the fridge and let out the barest smile when he saw the smoothies. He probably even knew who’d gotten them for him. Josh watched as Ryan opened the strawberry banana one and downed it with long gulps. Josh hated how Ryan was acting like everything was normal. 

“I’m not trying to say that I don’t care about your wellbeing,” Josh began carefully. “I just need to know if this is gonna become a thing, Ryan. Something common. Something I should expect to happen. If it’s, like…a disorder.”

Ryan slammed the fridge shut, and Josh could see he wanted to say something hurtful. He was happy Ryan chose not to. “I just want to know if we should look into meds, or maybe some sort of class, or if-”

“Stop,” Ryan interrupted. “Just stop.”

“I know the guys brushed over it last time and didn’t do anything to help you, but we—”

“The guys didn’t fucking brush over it,” Ryan snapped. “They had fucking breakdowns of their own. Pete second guessed literally every word he said to me after that, Brendon was terrified to touch me, Spencer just pretended I didn’t exist! So if you think that treating me like I’m some sort of fucking porcelain doll after this is a good idea, you’re a fucking idiot.” Ryan opened the fridge again and got another smoothie. “I was stressed, Josh. And you were too busy. That’s all that happened. Stop taking out your guilt on me.”

Josh knew he was right. Knew that Ryan could see right through Josh’s suggestions. He wanted to suggest a way to fix Ryan so he wouldn't have to fix himself. But god, Josh didn’t have time! He was on tour, he was planning a wedding, he was helping his best friend adjust to being away from his newborn daughter, Josh didn’t have time. 

“I can try and cancel the tour,” Josh said, even though that was the very last thing he’d ever do. Ryan narrowed his eyes at him.

“We both know you’re not going to do that.”

Josh looked away. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Nothing,” Ryan replied. “Don’t do a goddamn thing. I’ll be fine. I’m sure, once you’re satisfied with one of your projects, I’ll be a priority again. Just do me a favor and don’t try and tell me your fans love me. That’s just fucking insulting.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Josh said. “I can’t control what they say.”

“Oh, trust me,” Ryan snorted. “I know you can’t. Do you have any idea how fucked shit gets when the celebrity goes against their majority fans? It’s fucking anarchy. So trust me, I fucking know you can’t control them. But the least you could do is act like you hate the things they say. Or do you agree with them?” Ryan threw the empty bottle into the sink and turned to face Josh. He had a lot of strength for someone who had been near comatose for so long. “Do you think you’d be better with fucking Ashley? Usually people wait to get married before they’re divorced, but I guess we could always jump the gun and be fucking proactive about this.”

“What are you saying, Ryan?” Josh asked weakly. 

“You don’t even try to defend me!” Ryan cried out. “And I get it, I fucking get it, can’t choose sides and all that jazz, but after so long of listening to my fiancé just listen to what people say and not disagree, I can’t help but think that maybe you don’t disagree at all! What the fuck am I supposed to think, Josh? Actions speak louder than words, and I don’t get fucking either from you! Tyler is the one that has to tell me to keep my chin up! Fucking Tyler!”

Josh wanted to sink into the ground more than anything. He wanted to stop existing. Ryan’s anger was all justified. Ryan was right. Josh hadn’t done more than say one or two things to an interviewer. Ryan deserved to be defended. Josh couldn’t even do that right.

“No, stop,” Ryan said. “This is not the time to fucking pity yourself. Not if you’re not gonna change a damn thing.”

“I have a tour, Ryan,” Josh pleaded. “And a wedding.”

“I don’t care about the fucking wedding!” Ryan shouted. “I could marry you at the bottom of the ocean and be happy! I could marry you with a fucking ring pop in this very fucking room! You’re putting this pressure on yourself and blaming it when you can’t be with me! But it’s your fucking fault, Josh.”

“I know it is,” Josh choked out. “I’m so sorry.”

Ryan looked away. “…I’m leaving.”

Josh felt like the floor had disappeared under his feet. “What?”

“Not for good,” Ryan said. “But I’m taking that vacation. I need to. I need to get away from fucking everything. I’m gonna leave my phone. Leave my laptop. I’m just gonna go. I know you can’t come with me, and that’s okay, but that means you have to let me go on my own.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with you going anywhere alone,” Josh said shakily, cautiously. 

“Tough,” Ryan said. “I’m leaving.” He paused. “…Unless you want to come with?”

Josh felt like crying. He couldn’t say anything, just shook his head. He couldn’t ask Tyler to cancel the whole tour. He couldn’t do that to their fans. Ryan nodded, his expression resigned. “I’d figured as much.” Ryan went in for a third smoothie. “I’ll pack tonight. I’ll leave tomorrow morning. Whether you’re here or not is up to you. I know you have a show.” Ryan stared into the smoothie. “…I love you, Josh. I wish you could come with me.”

“I do too.”

Ryan nodded and walked slowly to the bedroom, still getting used to his legs. He grabbed two popsicles first. “I’m taking a shower and I’m staying in there for, like, five fucking hours. I guess I’ll see you later.”

Josh nodded slowly. He didn’t know what else he could do. Ryan watched Josh, waiting for him to say something. Ryan sighed when Josh didn’t. “Will I at least get to lie beside you tonight?” he asked, sounding heartsick. “I can’t promise I’ll sleep, but I want to be beside you. If I can.”

“I don’t know,” Josh confessed, sounding a little broken too. “I can’t… You’re leaving me.”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah. You can’t come with, so I guess I am.”

Josh looked away, not wanting Ryan to see him cry. Normally it wouldn’t bother him if Ryan saw him so vulnerable, but Josh felt burned right now. He felt exposed and fragile and he didn’t trust Ryan to not make it worse. “I think I’m gonna go stay with someone else,” he told Ryan. He could see the life leave Ryan’s body in his peripherals — the way Ryan’s shoulders slumped, like he didn’t even have the will to stand up against gravity anymore. “I just — I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

“I understand,” Ryan lied, voice strangled. “Do what you have to do.”

Josh nodded, avoiding Ryan’s gaze. He pulled on his shoes and grabbed his wallet and phone, leaving in a rush. The last he saw of Ryan was his fiancé reaching out towards him, like he was going to try and stop him from leaving. But Josh was out the door before Ryan could stop him.

. . .

“I don’t even know where he's gone,” Josh told Tyler the next day. He’d taken a flight back to Tyler that next day, after spending the night at Brendon’s house. Brendon had been sympathetic, of course, but Josh could tell Brendon hadn’t agreed with Josh’s choice to leave Ryan. He could tell Brendon wanted to tell him to go with Ryan to wherever Ryan was escaping too. He could tell Brendon wanted to say that love was more important than fame. 

Brendon hadn’t told Josh any of this because he’d known Josh already knew all of it. And the more Josh thought about it, the more he realized the sympathy Brendon had shown him was actually pity. 

“His phone is off,” Josh said when he saw Tyler bring out his phone to try and contact Ryan. “He’s cutting himself off. Says it’s important for him to do. So he can’t see the things people are saying about him.” Josh looked down. “Stuff people are saying about us.”

“I can’t believe you let him go,” Tyler said, sounding mad. He’d been mad since Josh had shown up at the venue. “You should’ve made him come with you, at the very least, Josh! You should have brought him with. We can help him here, and he won’t be away from you, and whenever he sees another awful thing someone says, you’d have been right there for him when he needed it! But instead, you’re letting him go god knows where and you didn’t even insist on being told where? Does anyone know?”

Josh didn’t have an answer for that. “I fucked up, Tyler,” he whimpered, tugging at his hair. “I fucked up really bad.”

“Yes, you did,” Tyler said harshly. “You really, really did.”

Josh hung his head and didn’t respond.

“You need to fix this,” Tyler told him, shoving his finger into Josh’s chest. “And honestly? Fuck the wedding. I know that’s the last thing you want to hear, but it’s the truth. Ryan doesn’t want something big and crazy and he doesn’t want the elaborate party you've set up. You need to drop the plans. I’ll cancel everything for you if I have to. But you’ve been sacrificing Ryan’s well being in the face of some crazy wedding that he doesn’t even care about! He just cares about marrying you. So just buy a hotel room, choose a nice park, and marry him that way. Invite the people who matter and order Chic’Fil’A for catering. Take care of your husband.”

“He’s my fiancé,” Josh corrected.

“He won’t be your fucking anything if you don’t straighten out,” Tyler snapped. 

“He told me he isn’t breaking up with me…”

Tyler threw his hands into the air. “That isn’t the point, Josh! You wasted your time on something only you cared about and now you’re paying the price. So drop the fucking wedding, take care of Ryan, and be the partner you’re supposed to be to the person you love.”

Josh looked at his toes. “…I have to finish this tour, Tyler.”

Tyler looked to him in disbelief. “Really?”

“We can’t neglect our fans,” Josh said. “I can’t neglect them. Even if my life falls apart, I need to be there for them. Their lives could be worse than mine. They could be suffering. Dying. I need to help them too. I’m not responsible for only my own life. You’re the one who told me that, Tyler. What this band is is more than music. I can’t throw that responsibility.”

A thought dawned and he felt sick. “And imagine the backlash,” Josh said. “These fans, apparently they hate Ryan? Which is awful, god, I can’t imagine why they could ever hate Ryan. But they do, and if they find out we’re cancelling a tour because of him, Ryan’s gonna get death threats. He’s gonna get unstable kids saying he’s the reason they hurt themselves or think of killing themselves. What they’re doing to him now will get so much worse, Tyler. And he’s barely holding together with what’s happening now.”

Tyler’s hands fell to his sides. “…We have three days off in two weeks.”

“Think Ryan will be okay that long?”

“Will you?” Tyler replied. Josh was surprised Tyler had given in to Josh’s argument so easily after how vehement he’d been before. He supposed it was because Tyler really did invest a lot his heart and soul in this band, same as Josh. It was a whole new level of responsibility, vastly different from their responsibilities to their loved ones. Tyler didn’t know how to argue against Josh’s point about their fans without making himself sound like he didn’t care about the fans in the first place.

“You really messed up, Joshy,” Tyler told him, sounding just plain sad now. “I really hope you can fix this.”

Josh knew neither of them were sure that Josh could fix anything.

. . .

Now that Josh was aware of what people had been saying to Ryan, he couldn’t avoid it.

It was evil stuff, too. Horrible people saying they wished Ryan was dead so Josh could finally be with the person he truly loved (who was fucking Ashley, of all people, the most ridiculous person they could ever imagine Josh to be with). People accusing Ryan of blackmail, emotional manipulation, even fucking rape. Josh couldn’t believe such evil things could come from the minds of the fans he loved and cared for so much. He couldn’t connect the fans that he cared about to these monsters telling his fiancé that they wanted him dead. He would go onstage now and see a solitary sign and the whole fucking show would be taken up by the guilt and the instinctual hatred for anyone who hurt Ryan. 

But they were his fans. Not all of them, too. Just a loud enough group. Jack couldn’t do anything about this shit, could he? Not unless he wanted to address everyone and make the silent groups mad. God, he hated this. How a group of people who could ruin it for fucking everyone. Josh knew he was going to have to put his foot down, though. There was no possible way he was losing Ryan over a group of bullies.

“I’m in full support of whatever you choose to do,” Tyler said softly. “And if you want any advice, I’m here.”

“I’m basically in dire need of anything you can give me,” Josh said.

“Cancel the tour.”

“Okay, anything but that.”

“Then just a few shows,” Tyler said. “We can refund everyone, no skin of their backs. Sure, people will be hurt, but…I mean, this is Ryan, Josh. This is the man you say you wanna marry. I’d do this for Jenna. You should do the same for Ryan. Right? If this were Jenna, you would cancel everything for me. I feel like I ought to do the same.”

“Tyler, maybe when we weren’t selling out stadiums.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re putting conditions on Ryan, Josh. That’s not okay. Saying you can only be there for him if fill-in-the-blank. Showing him you have some pretty shallow limits when it comes to being his partner. This isn’t how we do things, Josh. We don’t give conditions to our statements of love.”

Josh ran his hands through his hair. “…How do we cancel?”

“We make a statement. Choose the dates we’re cancelling, make the damage as minimal as possible, and be transparent and honest. And it should be done personally okay? We owe that. We’ll make a video or something if you think you’re up to it. What do you want to say?”

“I wanna say that these fucking assholes need to stop messing with Ry,” Josh grumbled. “I’m beginning to understand why he was so nervous to come out in the first place. Though honestly, he was worried they’d be attacking me.” He smiled sardonically. “Couldn’t have imagined this. Turned a blind eye, too. God, I’m the worst. Tyler? How do I fix this?”

Tyler pushed a pen and a pad of paper over to him. “Work on that statement. And try to be as firm as possible. Like a disappointed parent. Cause that’s what I’m starting to feel like. Just know that I’ll back you up no matter what. I’d just prefer to back you up while you’re doing the right thing.” Tyler pat Josh on the shoulder. “Help me save some face, Joshy. Don’t fuck us over. Be the daddy they call you.”

Josh was tempted to flip Tyler off. Instead, he turned to the paper and started to write. He paused mid-sentence. “…I need to call Dan. And you should call a few other people, too.”

. . .

_“We’re making this a public statement so we can really clear some things up,” Josh said. “Lately, there has been a large amount of attacks against very important people in our lives.”_

_“And by very important person, we mean Ryan Ross,” Tyler interjected, smiling easily._

_“Tyler and I just wanted to say that we’re basically really not okay with the way you’ve been treating him,” Josh sighed. “Because while most of you probably saw it as harmless, nameless faces just saying jerk things, Ryan’s been struggling. It’s been difficult for him. Some of you have been saying dumb stuff, while others have been literally pushing him to commit suicide.”_

_“We don’t stand for that,” Tyler said. “We just don’t. Everything that Twenty-One Pilots has been about is perfectly against that kind of horrible behavior. The idea that some of our fans could say such terrible and hurtful to someone who’s so important to us is mind-boggling and not at all what we had expected. We, we honestly thought better of some of you guys.”_

_“We understand it’s not everyone,” Josh said. “We do. We know that it’s mostly just some really loud individuals. We’re not asking for all of you to feel guilty, but… Well, we’re going to try and ask you to not stand for this behavior in our community. The T-O-P fanbase has been known for being strong and loyal to each other. Like a family. So as a family, we need you guys to not let your wayward brothers and sisters treat people like they’re treating Ryan. And not just Ryan. All of you are important and no one should be treated like this. We don’t condone this abuse. Towards anyone.”_

_“We’re asking you guys to be the better people and stand up to this violence,” Tyler said. “We’re asking you guys to stand up for each other and others beyond that. And if you’re one of the people who are telling Ryan to kill himself, we’re asking you to stop. This sort of behavior… It’s sickening. Disappointing. Seeing you guys act like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to this bad. We do not stand for this. We don’t want anyone to believe that we stand for this. It’s a horrible reflection on the message we’re sending, which is that everyone deserves to feel like it’s okay to be themselves. Telling Ryan to jump off a bridge, slit his wrists, shoot himself…it’s wrong and we won’t stand for it.”_

_“We’re cancelling five tour dates,” Josh said, steeling himself. “Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona. We’re cancelling these dates because we have some very important, personal affairs to take care of. And if any of you pin this on Ryan, then…” Josh trailed off._

_“Then we’ll figure out some sort of retaliation,” Tyler said, speaking up for Josh. “Because we’re not going to let this continue. Right, Joshy?”_

_“I’m basically done with letting people tell him this stuff, yeah,” Josh sighed. “I’m not going to date Halsey. I’m not fucking around with Brendon. I will never, ever find anyone better for me than Ryan. He’s amazing, intelligent, a musical genius, kind, caring, generous, sexy as all fucking hell, and amazing in bed. So whatever complaints you have are better kept to yourself. I’m not going to let Ryan listen anymore. Save your breath. You won’t ever be able to end what we have.”_

Ryan shut off his laptop after watching the video. It was the fourth time he’d watched Tyler and Josh’s statements. The video had been posted over two days ago, but he’d been putting it off out of sheer nerves. Outside, the ocean crashed against the rocks and the small city buzzed quietly. The sun shone in through the veranda of the house he was renting. The doors to the veranda were open and a breeze ran through the whole small home. 

He hadn’t felt a moment of peace since arriving. He knew he wouldn’t without Josh. He was supposed to go shopping, supposed to go on a walk, supposed to actually enjoy himself and take the break he’d been after. Ryan just couldn’t relax. He couldn’t be happy. He couldn’t cope.

Ryan tugged at his hair, then put on his sunglasses and the dumb straw hat he bought in the market on impulse yesterday. He felt like a bohemian white girl, but it was warm in Positano and he needed to eat, right? He hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. He needed to eat. If he went home worse off than when he’d first left at all, Josh would just have more of a reason to feel like shit.

Ryan had done a little of reflection over his decision to leave and wasn’t sure it was the right choice to make anymore. He knew he needed this, even if it wasn’t actually helping him to the necessary extent. But he should’ve waited. He should’ve been a good boy and waited for the tours to end and then he could’ve left. He’d fucked Josh over and put him in an impossible situation. It had been unfair. Ryan was unfair. Josh didn’t deserve what Ryan had said. He was going to make a phone call tonight, Ryan had decided as much, he was going to apologize. He wasn’t going home, though. He couldn’t stomach it.

Ryan forced himself out the door. He looked down at his phone and saw a text from Dan, asking where he was. Ryan walked for a good five minutes down to the beach. He took a picture and sent it to Dan. It took a while for the message to be sent, and then Dan fucking left him on read. What an asshole.

Ryan sighed and sat down in the sand. He had seen a vendor down the road, but the beach was empty, for once, so far. It hadn’t ever been empty since he’d gotten here. There were some stragglers down the way, but he had a good half mile of gorgeous sand. Ryan sighed and dropped onto his back onto the sand. The sun warmed his body. It made him feel sluggish and thinking became a little too easy.

He felt horrible. He felt out of place and unwanted and lost, like he didn’t have a home. The idea of going back to LA made his chest hurt. Though, the idea of staying here without Josh hurt too. But the burn of betrayal, and the words that were scrawled all over the white walls of the things he used to enjoy, they were too much. He wished he could stop existing. No expectations, no rules, just him in an endless black of nothing. The only decision he would have to make was which end of the void he wanted to stare into. 

He just wished he’d thought things through a little better. He wished he hadn’t been so quick to leave, because now it felt like he couldn’t go back. He wished he’d talked to Josh. Well, he had. He wished he’d tried harder to be less emotional about it. He wished he’d just been a fucking adult and sucked it up. Josh…Josh didn’t deserve to be abandoned like Ryan had been abandoned before. Fuck, he needed to apologize.

Ryan sat up quickly and sent Josh a text — the first time he’d reached out to anyone on his own in over a week. It was simple, too. 

_i’m sorry_

He was sorry. He was so very fucking sorry and he had no idea what he was going to do to make things up to Josh. He’d probably have to literally beg on his knees for Josh to even consider his apology. Ryan didn’t actually have a problem with that. Josh was a fucking treasure and Ryan wasn’t beyond putting his head on a platter for forgiveness. He loved Josh. His pride meant nothing in the face of repairing their relationship and fixing his mistakes.

He looked to the message and saw Josh had left him on read too. 

Oh.

He’d fucked up pretty badly. That much was apparent now. Ryan sighed and set his phone aside. He looked out at the ocean and stared for a long time. The two different blues — the blue of the sky versus the ocean. It was calming, but he wished it was night, so the ocean and the sky would blend into the same inkinesss. 

“What am I gonna do,” Ryan wondered aloud. So far, he’d done a lot of running. Maybe it was time he quit trying to run. 

He hadn’t thought of that, actually. Ryan sat up a little straighter and looked out to the ocean. He had to change his way of thinking. He wouldn’t be going back to LA to go home, he’d be going back to fix things. Josh and Tyler were already canceling those tour dates — the first cancelled show was tonight, which left four more days of Josh probably being home so Ryan could fix things. So he could fix what he’d done to Josh.

Ryan got up, out of the sand. He marched back to his little house and started to pack.

. . .

He ended up calling for room service halfway through, speaking in ragged Italian, and eating a shit ton of cheese as he’d packed and tried to figure out how to call a cab. He was really bad at Italian. He was packed in three hours. He glanced to his phone, wondering if Josh had replied. There was nothing.

Dan had sent him another text, just about ten minutes ago, though. Asking where he was again. Ryan wasn’t sure why it mattered, Dan hadn’t felt the need to check up on him twice in twenty-four hours before. Ryan was heading to the door as he still puzzled out the message. He opened the front door and walked right into Tyler’s chest.

Ryan startled, his bag dropping from his shoulder onto the floor. He stared owlishly at the other man, blinking slowly. Maybe he was still feeling the sun. “Uh…Tyler?”

Tyler beamed. He had his phone to his ear. “Found him,” he said into the receiver. “The third house.” Tyler hung up and wrapped Ryan in his arms, giving Tyler the tightest hug Ryan had gotten from someone as sleight as Tyler Joseph. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around Tyler’s ribs. He was confused. 

“How…why are you here?” Ryan asked. 

“Josh wanted to come looking for you,” Tyler said. “We split up. They’ll be here any-”

“Ry!”

Ryan’s gaze snapped beyond Tyler, over his shoulder, to Josh. Josh was running up the sloped stone road with Dan and Jeremy and Jenna (who was somehow running with Hannah, how the fuck was she running while carrying a fucking baby?) all close behind. Then he saw Pete just beyond them, and was still so very confused. “Why are you all here?” Ryan asked Tyler again. 

“We’re here for you, Ryan,” Tyler said before stepping aside as Josh bounded up the steps and crashed into Ryan like a train. They stumbled backwards into the house, barely keeping their balance, before Josh pushed Ryan against the wall and held on tight enough to stop Ryan’s breathing. 

“I was gonna-”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Josh said, his face pressed into Ryan’s neck. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been there. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Why is your bag packed?” Pete asked as he strode into the little house. “Gonna ditch?”

“I was leaving for the airport,” Ryan said, his voice wavering. “I was, I was gonna come home. Back to Josh.” He looked down Josh’s back, then fisted his hands in the back of Josh’s shirt. The yellow hair teased the skin of his cheek and Ryan started to shake a little. He needed Josh. He’d known that before, but he definitely fucking knew it now, too. 

“I love you, Joshy,” he murmured. “I am so sorry for saying those things to you. I was wrong. I-I was very wrong, okay? I was wrong and I should’ve been better and you, you deserve better. I’m really sorry.”

“God, what?” Josh pulled back, brow furrowed. “You…you’re apologizing?”

“Why’re you apologizing?” Dan asked, grabbing Ryan’s bag off the floor and depositing it on the bed. “Josh is the one who royally fucked up. Oh my god, is that cheese?” Dan went to the table and started to snack on what was left over from Ryan’s lunch. “Shit, this is some bomb ass cheese.” He turned and grinned at Ryan. “Stop apologizing. Tell me how I can get more of this cheese. Jeremy, come try this shit.” Jeremy went to the table and started to eat the cheese. Hannah gurgled happily to the side and reached out for where the food was.

“Call with the phone on the table,” Ryan said slowly. He was held captive by the intensity of Josh’s gaze. “I…I am apologizing. Because I should’ve talked to you. Shouldn’t have kept you in the dark like that. I went too long without actually going to you and talking about how I was feeling and what was messing me up. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away. All I’ve really ever done is run away, and I…I don’t want to be like that anymore. Hence, the bag.” He smiled shakily. “I was gonna come home. I was gonna come see you. And I was gonna fix everything.” He sighed. “I, I guess I still will. Just…isn’t gonna have the same ‘oomph!’ you know? Not like it would if I’d been the one to show up across the world inexplicably.”

Josh kept staring into his eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed Ryan. He pulled back after a few seconds, staring into Ryan’s eyes again, and then nodded. “Pete, do the thing.”

“Okay, so I’m not ordained,” Pete said, smirking a little. “But I read there was a process for that somewhere online. I’ll figure that out later.” Pete stood to the right of Ryan and Josh, pulling a piece of paper and an envelope from his back jean pocket. He opened the envelope and pulled out two golden rings, handing them to Josh. Ryan’s eyes grew wide. “You guys can sign the official stuff back in the states,” Pete continued. “For now, I’m gonna need to hear some sickeningly sweet wedding vows.”

“Ryan,” Josh said softly. “When I first met you, and that stupid party Dan dragged you too, I’d gone out on a limb and fucked up from the beginning. You didn’t even know we were technically dating until the third fucking date, and that’s honestly my favorite thing about this entire journey with you, because from the beginning, you were always a bunch of unexpected things rolled together in this perfect way that made me smile.” Josh grinned, looking like he was about to tear up. Ryan was still in shock. His brain was struggling to catch up.

“I’ve loved every second of it, Ryan,” Josh told him. “Every moment. Every breath, every dumb conversation about video games, every moment where you and I fell asleep on the couch watching TV shows and talking about music. You’re the person I wanna fall asleep with and wake up to every day for my life. I wanna share the second earbud with you and the last slice of pizza. I want to go to more dumb parties and pretend to drink. I want to prove to you that people can stick around in your life for longer than a few years and I want to prove to you that true love is real and lasts forever. I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to turn on you. And I’m sure as fucking hell not going to let all of those assholes out there say you don’t mean anything less than the fucking world to me, okay? You’re the love of my life. You’re the only person I’ll ever want like this. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love for the last time of my life.” Josh pressed their foreheads together. “I love you. And I can’t wait to make you believe it.”

Ryan gaped.

Pete was smiling brightly. He turned to Ryan. “And yours?”

“I know I‘ve put you on the spot,” Josh murmured. “Just…just say what you’re feeling.”

Ryan blinked slowly. “I love you so much, Josh,” he said. “I never…I never, ever thought I’d have someone like you. Something like this. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry in advance for all the times I’m going to hurt you or make you feel like you’ve done something wrong. And I’m sorry I’m a fucked up person. But god, please, do not ever fall out of love with me. You’re all I have. And you’re all I need.” Ryan paused, biting his lip. “Are we really doing this?”

“Do you, Ryan Ross, take the lovely Mr. Josh Dun as your lawfully wedded husband, once you get back to the states?” Pete asked, grinning like an idiot by now. Ryan nodded shakily. He couldn’t get the words out. “And you, Mr. Josh Dun. Do you take Ryan as your husband?”

“Fucking god, yes I do,” Josh breathed, smiling into Ryan’s eyes. “You literally couldn’t make me say no. Even with a gun to my head.”

Pete snorted. “Any objections from the people gathered?”

Jeremy slowly raised his hand, but Dan smacked it down with a roll of his eyes. 

“Groovy,” Pete hummed. “By the power not invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.” He waved between them. “You may kiss the bri- husband. You can kiss now. Kiss.”

Josh grinned and took Ryan’s face in his hands, kissing him hard. There was clapping, the barest of sounds, and this was better than any wedding Josh could’ve thrown together. The only people that could really matter were here. 

“I wanna go home,” Ryan breathed against his lips. “LA. I want to be with you. I want to stop running. Can I…could I follow you? The tour? I’ll even get a van or something, I just-”

“I’m not about to let you leave my side ever again,” Josh swore. “But while we’re here, I’m thinking we can have our first honeymoon, yeah?” He grinned. “This is a nice place. And there’s a beach and the sun and I just…I have four more days. I want to spend them with you.”

“The others…”

“You’re my husband now,” Josh told him. “They’ll understand if I ask them to maybe get a hotel room down the street or something.”

Ryan took in a shaky breath. “Okay. Thank you. For standing up for me.”

“I never should’ve had to been pushed into it in the first place.” Josh leaned in a kissed him again. “I love you. And I won’t let them hurt you ever again. Not without shoving my fist into their face. Do you believe me?”

Ryan looked into his eyes. He saw sincerity and truth and love and so much passion that it felt stifling. Ryan shuddered and ducked his head, then nodded. “I believe you.” And he did.


End file.
